


Be Still, My Savage Heart

by Laily, Nonexistenz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Avenger Loki (Marvel), BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Stephen Strange, Brotherly Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Digital Art, Drama, Established Relationship, Eye of Agamatto, Humor, Hurt Stephen Strange, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki Whump, M/M, Magical Exhaustion, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Thor (Marvel), Romance, Sick Loki (Marvel), Thanos is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28748901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laily/pseuds/Laily, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonexistenz/pseuds/Nonexistenz
Summary: Healing Magic requires:1. Skills (Loki has plenty)2. Strength (This too)3. Sentiment (Jury's still out on this one but in all his life, Loki has only ever cared for a handful of people so it never really mattered)And then Stephen came along.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Loki, Clint Barton & Stephen Strange, Loki & Avengers Team, Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Stephen Strange, Stephen Strange & Thor, Stephen Strange & Wong
Comments: 64
Kudos: 211
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever event and I'm so excited! Not only was I given a great prompt to work with, but the art by the talented [Nonexistenz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonexistenz/works) (in Chapter 7) is absolutely beautiful and I am super-grateful. I hope my offering will do the masterpiece justice. Thank you to my wonderful beta [Arabesqueangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabesqueangel/works) who has been stellar through this long, arduous journey, I couldn't have done this without you. 
> 
> The original prompt reads: Healing magic required not only a lot of power and skill, but deep feelings. Usually, love of some kind. That was the reason why not many people were able to use magic to heal someone. Loki has only ever been able to use some healing magic on his mother and Thor. Before. After he fell in love with Stephen he was sure he could use it on him too. It might even help with the pain in Stephen's hands. The only thing stopping him was that Stephen was well aware what using healing magic meant, and that came way too close to a love confession for Loki, so he doesn't try. That is, until the day he's forced to do so...

In retrospect, Clint's training and inherent hardiness should have been more than sufficient to dispose of the threat, had the compromise not been to one of SHIELD's bunkers, and the threat not in the form of its own agents. 

These were agents whose degree of acquaintance with Clint ranged from a professional nod in the hallway to passing donuts in team meetings, but as someone who had gone rogue before, Clint could attest to the usual line-up of suspects driving any old mutiny: revenge, grief, greed.

Strangely, in this case, there was none. 

“What’s gotten into them?” Natasha wondered out loud in between the kicks and punches. Their opponents would not engage in banter talk, let alone the diplomatic kind. “It’s like they’ve been brainwashed. Something’s happened.”

“Or someone,” Clint growled, glaring up at the demigod sauntering down the steel walkway like a peacock sashaying down a runway. 

Loki leaned out against the railing and peered down, meeting Clint’s defiant stare with a disinterested gaze. 

“This again? The number of times your Superhero Club’s been infiltrated this lifetime alone...” With a sigh and a shake of the head, “To quote you, Agent Barton, you suck.”

“Bite me.” Clint glowered. “I asked for back-up and you sent _him?_ ”

“We’re all quite preoccupied at the moment, Katniss,” Iron Man’s staticky voice blared through the Comm-Link. He sounded a little tense, the fight in the background sounding just as rowdy.

The recapture of a SHIELD base should be standard operation, but when they were facing their own, it had become a bit more complicated. Now they were separated across the north and west wings with Steve, Tony and Thor in one corner, Clint, Natasha, and now Loki in the other. All things considered, the fights were strangely well-matched. 

"Foxface happened to be in town so he volunteered as Tribute."

"Hah, I wish." "You wish." Clint and Loki scoffed at the same time with equal amounts of disdain and mistrust. 

“You boys play nice now - oh, _shit!_ ” A blue energy projectile shot out from the formidable-looking, non-standard issue rifle and hit Tony in the shoulder; instantly he felt that area of his body freeze, as though he had suddenly been tied to a leaden weight. “Has Fury been experimenting with secret alien technology again?”

“Agent Romanoff,” Loki called politely from the gallery. “Why are you holding back?”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Loki - ” she grunted, “but they happen to be our friends.”

“But they’re not,” Loki pointed out, sounding mildly baffled. “They’re not even human.”

"Some of them are Inhuman, yes, but that's harsh." Natasha stole a glance at their once-nemesis. "Even for you." 

She ducked to avoid a sweeping kick that would have taken most of her teeth out. “Besides, it’s capture, not kill.”

“That’s hardly worth getting out of bed for,” Loki muttered. 

Clint yelped when a fist caught him in the side of the head, sending him flying into a wall. 

"You’re all talk, aren’t you?" He seethed, pulling himself to stand. Stars danced in front of his eyes and glowering was not helping. “Are you just going to stand there?”

Bedecked in his usual golds and greens, Loki may be dressed for a fight, but for all his battle regalia, he was doing jack shit. 

“On your six,” a smooth voice whispered in his ear; Clint turned around just in time to see the real Loki slit his dagger across a fellow agent’s throat and throw the body at him. “Think fast!”

Clint fumbled between catching the body and jumping out of the way, bracing himself for the inevitable fountain of blood. 

What he had not expected was the body picking itself up off the floor as if nothing had happened. Not only was there no blood, where the neck wound was supposed to be was a semi-hollow cavity lined with what looked very much like silicon. “What the hell?”

“Interesting…” A wide smile broke across Loki’s face, feral and definitely less bored than how it looked just a few seconds ago. 

“Thor, electrocute them.” Loki’s spartan order reverberated through the Comm-Link, a chilling presage of his own devastating powers. His eyes and hands began to glow.

“No! That’s a negative! Loki, what are you trying to do?” Captain America demanded. 

“Oh, he’s gone bananas,” Tony said, sounding slightly hysterical. 

“These are not your colleagues, Captain, these are Chronicoms,” Loki said shortly. “They are synthetic beings parading as humans, and they are hostile. I suggest you treat them as such and kill them. If you want to live, that is.”

A static rose in the connection, and Thor recognised it as the awakening of his brother’s magic. He called on his own powers, and a second later, blue tendrils of electricity sparked from the ends of his fingers. 

“Stand back,” he said gruffly. 

Blue and green merged into a blinding latticework of magic and thunder, and the walls shuddered with the combined forces of the Gods.

“Capture, not kill, Loki,” Natasha reminded numbly, rubbing the static out of the hair on the back of her neck as she stared at the bodies scattered at her feet.

Loki tipped his chin at the lone Chronicom slumped upright against a steel wall, half-torn off its hinges from the impact of Loki’s spell. “Left you one. Go peanuts.”

"I really, really can't stand the guy," Clint muttered.

* * *

“So this is what the intruders were after?” Clint flipped the device back to front, and back again for a brief look-over, before passing it on to Bruce. “Any idea what it is?”

“It looks like one of those in-flight entertainment consoles you might find onboard an airplane,” Bruce said. 

He rolled his eyes at the baffled expression on Tony’s face. “You would know if you’ve ever flown economy.”

Before anyone could stop him, Bruce flipped a switch on the side of the device, and when nothing particularly explosive happened, everyone slowly emerged from their cowering position.

“A little warning next time, big guy?” Tony digged. “Can we please not do that when we’re flying a hundred thousand feet in the air?”

“It’s a tracker device of some sort,” Bruce said slowly. He swept a finger across the screen to try to make sense of the coordinates, but the grid lines did not move. “It’s not even a touchscreen. The technology is at least twenty years old.”

“Aw, no retina display? Gosh, I had no idea flying coach was so depressing.”

“Do forgive the interruption to such a riveting discussion but perhaps it is more important that you find out what that device is supposed to track, if the Chronicoms were willing to kill for it,” Loki suggested, before muttering under his breath, “Though I can’t imagine what could be so valuable.”

“Loki is right,” Steve said. “A bunch of aliens broke into a bunker to get that out of the vault. Obsolete or not, it must be important.”

“Let’s ask our resident alien,” Tony suggested brightly. “Since you’ve been so helpful today.”

"The Chronicoms are the most superior beings in their galaxy, much like the Kree. Are you not the slightest bit curious as to their purpose here, on this backwater planet of yours?" 

“Why, to conquer, of course. I mean, that's why all you aliens come to our backwater planet, isn't it? And guess what always happens?” Tony baited, his eyes dark and serious for once. “You _lose._ ”

"I am happy to sit by and watch the Synths come and take over your planet. After all, they have studied your species for millennia."

"You seem to know so much about these Chronicoms," Bruce said mildly. "You sure they're not friends of yours?"

"Come now, Bruce. Surely you have met a few when you were serving your stint in the Grandmaster's Contest of Champions on Sakaar? Oh wait, that was your other half," Loki said sweetly. "I forget I am now talking to the less intelligent version of you."

"That's enough, Loki," Steve said firmly. "What do you mean, studying our species? And is there a reason why you mentioned Sakaar?"

Loki leaned back against his chair. "Finally someone is asking the right questions. You're never too wise to defer to a higher intellect, Captain."

"Just answer the question," Steve said tightly. 

Loki shrugged. "The Chronicoms are highly-advanced robotic beings from a planet called Chronyca-2. You may know the constellation it belongs to as Cygnus. They are a curious race, and much like the Elders of the Universe, they don't really do much of anything other than explore the galaxies and observe other sentient beings for research purposes.” 

"As for Sakaar, the Grandmaster loved them. Ever since he hired the Coms to be his croupiers in his casinos, his wealth grew exponentially."

"Yes, that is all very interesting. But what does that have to do with us?" 

Loki answered Tony's question with a question. "How did the most advanced sentient computers in the galaxy end up on a planet like Sakaar, and now Earth, the dumpsters of the universe?"

"You like the sound of your voice, why don’t you tell us.”

When Loki remained silent, Tony rolled his eyes. "You don't know, do you?"

"I was hoping Agent Romanoff could shine some light on the matter."

"So much for your higher intellect," Tony murmured.

"He's not talking," Natasha said, limping heavily into the war room with Thor on her tail, a troubled look on his face. "Won't tell us why they came, or where the missing agents are."

“Your friends are dead,” Loki said flatly. “If you search hard enough you will find their bodies. Sans faces, of course.” 

“You’re saying that these robots steal faces off dead people? Like Jaqen H’gar?” Clint asked incredulously. The blank look on Loki’s face compelled him to further clarify. “The Faceless Men of Braavos?” 

“Please do not take offense if I do not understand the reference," Loki said lightly. "I can see you are trying very hard."

"I take offense at how you can't muster the slightest bit of sympathy and help Nat," Tony said loudly. "And for God's sake, if you're not going to let Bruce splint your leg, at least sit down and quit putting your weight on it."

"I'll live," Natasha muttered. 

“I am under no obligation to heal anyone,” Loki said simply. “And as Agent Romanoff has correctly deduced, she will live. With or without my help.”

"Seriously, Lokes, what even is the point in keeping you around? I mean, honestly?” 

Loki's predatory smile turned coquettish. "Is that a trick question, Stark? Last I checked, you were not the captain of the ship."

“At least I'm not the dead weight that you are," Tony muttered. 

“Thinking of throwing me overboard?” 

“Would if I could,” Tony retorted.

“Are you threatening the prince of a sovereign country?” Loki asked. “In the presence of its King?”

"Brother." "Guys…" Thor and Bruce said warningly, almost in unison.

Tony rolled his eyes. "I am not threatening you, Your Highness. I am simply demonstrating that we all need a reminder of civic duty from time to time, present royal company included."

“If it were my duty,” Loki said softly, “You would have been healed already. Dereliction of duty would bring disgrace upon Asgard, and to be honest, I haven't been in the mood to dishonour my brother lately."

He ignored the expression on Thor’s face, whom upon hearing that statement, somehow managed to look both a little offended and immensely proud.

“I offered my aid as a gesture of goodwill. It does not extend to my nursemaiding you through these papercuts.”

 _“Papercuts?”_ Tony’s voice shrilled as he flailed his arms around, almost tearing the stitches holding together the gash on his wrist which Bruce had haphazardly sutured at the back of the Quinjet.

“Which you could have avoided had you practiced caution or spent some time working on your battle strategy.” 

“Yeah, coz you’re _such_ a team player,” Tony sassed. “I don’t mean to sound all goody-goody like someone we know here, but while you were really hot doing it, we don't go around issuing execution orders like some kind of Henry VIII cosplay.” 

A sudden thought occurred to him, and his face paled slightly. "Oh my gosh, you were not actually Henry VIII, were you? Like in a past life?"

Loki studied Tony critically. 

“I distinctly remember saying ‘electrocute’, not decapitate.” The tip of his nose crinkled. “I was right. We really need to get more cobalamin into you. Besides, I am not overly fond of beheadings. They are unnecessarily messy, and lack finesse."

" _Finesse_." Gobsmacked, Tony turned to Bruce for help. "Cobala-what?"

“Vitamin B12. Helps with memory and executive functioning,” Bruce supplied helpfully at the perplexed look on Tony's face.

"Excuse you, I can execute just fine."

“So that’s what the whole deal with the compromised Nutella was all about.”

Loki smirked. “Tasted good, didn’t it?”

Natasha shrugged. “It wasn’t bad. Tastes like seledka. Goes very well with vodka.”

“Seriously? That’s what we’re focusing on?” Tony huffed. “I give up. Cap, your turn.”

Loki bristled at being passed around like a schoolboy needing a dressing-down when he became too much for one teacher to handle. 

"If it weren't for me, you and your precious Avengers would have been taken over by a team of Chronicom Hunters and none of you any the wiser because you would all be dead," Loki riposted. 

He turned to Thor, his expression of mixed horror and bafflement. “Really, Brother? These are your so-called fearsome warriors, the most able protectors of this planet?”

“That is enough, Loki,” Thor said quietly. 

Loki’s face smoothened into a blank canvas, the sneer that had been forming arrested from becoming something truly ugly. 

In a swirl of green and gold, he disappeared. 

Thor only looked sadly at the now vacant chair, his body language saying everything while vocalising absolutely nothing. 

“What an asshole,” Clint muttered. 

“I’m the one bleeding out and he’s the one butthurt?” Tony said incredulously.

Thor frowned. “Is that a euphemism for something, or did Loki injure that part of his body and I did not see it?”

Natasha winced, circumducting her swollen ankle which was likely badly sprained, if not fractured. "No, he escaped without injuries." 

"The only one who did," Clint said darkly, nursing a livid bruise on his cheek. 

In times like these, Steve reminisced about how much easier they had it when Loki was still their enemy. Politically. Morally. 

Just the thought of it filled him with shame.

“Anything to say to this, Thor? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

"I have nothing to say," Thor said. "It is not my place."

"What the hell does that mean? Is that your weird-ass way of saying you don't care? Coz we - " Tony twirled his finger to allude to the notion of collective belongingness, "- are a team! And right now, your jackass of a brother isn't playing ball."

"Tony," Steve warned. "Let's all be civil here, okay? I understand you're tired and hurting, but if you can't say anything nice..."

"Say something clever, caustic and scandalous?" Tony finished. "How about this. Your Brother, the so-called most powerful Sorcerer in all the Nine Realms, is a prick. 

"That's real clever, Stark," Steve said dryly. "Look. Thor. The clemency stipulations granted to Loki in exchange for asylum for you and your people are quite clear. You did agree to cooperate with us and facilitate in all efforts to maintain international peace and security.” 

Steve’s eyes shifted downward ever so slightly. “We owe it to the people whose lives had been lost.”

The unspoken implication of Steve’s requisition left a bad taste in Thor’s mouth.

“Then it is to those people that Loki needs to make amends,” Thor declared, his stone face permitting little contestation. “And I assure you, he will. How he chooses to do it is up to him.”

They locked stares for an unsettling moment, before a visibly flustered Steve broke away from Thor’s hypnotic gaze; it was a rude reminder that for all his sunny disposition, the God of Thunder was still very much a formidable presence. 

"So.” Steve cleared his throat loudly. “Back to interrogating our guest. Who's up next?"

* * *

_New Asgard_

“That was uncalled for, Loki.”

“Oh, I agree,” Loki said coolly. “For all I have done, I deserved much more respect than that, don’t you think?”

“I did wonder what you were playing at, to be honest.”

Loki shrugged. “Not much. Just at strategic incompetence. And a little bit of fun.”

“Pleading incompetence only works when no one can see through the bluff, Brother.”

“Oh, spare me,” Loki muttered at the look on Thor’s face, one he had worn a thousand times before. Having been on the receiving end for some number of centuries, Loki had no name for it, not anymore. 

It still looked as judgey as he always remembered it. 

“If my King had wished it of me, he needed only say the word and your little friends would have been patched up.” Loki laid a mockingly polite hand over his heart. “I live and die and live again, only to serve.”

Thor's jaw twitched, his posture stiffening. 

“I will not do that to you.” A firm shake of the head. “Not if it is against your will.”

“My will.” Loki’s hand fell away. His eyes instantly hardened. “I assure you, the irony of your statement is not lost on me.”

“I wish you would say what is on your mind without always making a song and dance of it."

“Now where is the fun in that?" Loki asked. His teasing tone quickly turned accusatory. "You knew what they were asking of me. I did not see you coming to my defense."

"Only because you've always resented aid when it is given to you unsolicited."

"Spoken like a true opportunist," Loki would have sounded cheerful but for the acid on his tongue. "The benevolent act works no longer, Brother. You are an exploiter, just like everybody else.”

“I only asked for your help that one time, Loki."

“Good thing you did, for you would have lost your life had you not,” Loki retorted. “It is unlikely that your people would let me live if I ever allowed any harm to befall their beloved King.”

“They are your people too, Brother,” Thor sighed. He tired of the same argument time and time again. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Loki asked. “Please, that is the door. And there is the window, if you are so inclined.”

“No, you are confusing me.” Thor said patiently. “Your behaviour is at odds with your...grievances.”

Loki shot him an angry look, daring him to continue.

“If fighting alongside the Avengers is a cause you do not prescribe to, you are free to stay out of it. And yet here you are.”

"Maybe I like to surround myself with inferior beings." Loki said. "If I could wager a guess, none of you mighty Avengers have managed to persuade the Hunter to speak?"

Thor shook his head. "Friend Steve has handed the prisoner over to Fury. He is SHIELD's problem now."

"It will soon be ours," Loki mumbled. 

"I do not follow."

"Here's something interesting I learnt on Sakaar,” Loki said slowly. “Chronyca-2 is no more. The entire planet was destroyed by an unforeseen enemy that annihilated their entire race except for a lucky few. Care to guess what the survivors are doing now?”

Thor shrugged. If he guessed wrongly, Loki would only tease him, but then again, the satisfaction of outwitting Thor would probably sweeten Loki up enough to talk.

His brother’s reticence seemed to excite Loki even more. “What did _we_ do after I destroyed our home?"

"You did not _destroy_ Asgard, Brother. If anything, _I_ did. You were only acting on my command," Thor said gruffly. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why did you not tell our friends about this?"

Loki crossed his arms, mirroring his brother's stance. "I wasn't feeling very charitable. And besides, there's not much we can do about the Chronicoms. They are already here." 

"What?"

"The whole world has gone digital, Thor. How long do you think it will take the Synths to conquer Midgard?" he asked darkly.

"The Chronicoms could have been seeking refuge on Earth for all you know." A note of anger crept into Thor's regret-tinged voice. "And we killed them all but one."

“Do you remember what Father once told us?” Loki asked mildly. “About ensuring the survival of our people?”

At Thor’s reluctant nod, Loki gave him one of approval in return. “It applies to political warfare as well. Asgard needs no faint hearts for its ambassadors. And I am no faint heart.” 

“Loki, we are among friends. There is nothing political going on here.”

“Oh, Thor.” The practiced look of sympathy on Loki’s face spoke of centuries of suffering his Brother’s naivete. “Everything is political.”

After centuries, Thor too, knew how to push where it hurt. “Is that why you’re here, pretending to help? For political advancement?”

“Advancement, leverage, boredom.” Loki waved his hand languidly. “It varies from moment to moment.”

“No ulterior motives?” 

“Must there always be one?” Loki asked sharply. “You thrust me into the limelight often enough, Brother. I might as well feed my bloodlust and kill a few things while I’m at it."

"Loki…"

"If that meant our own refuge here is secure, then so be it. I don't imagine the people of Earth would be very welcoming of yet another alien race seeking asylum."

"And really, you are forgetting the most important issue of all," Loki continued, for when he really wanted to talk, there was no stopping him. "I for one would like to know what had been powerful enough to destroy an established planet such as Chronyca-2."

"You don't know?" Thor asked coolly. "I thought you knew everything."

"High praise, brother dear. I wish others were more easily impressed." Loki sniffed. "I suppose congratulations is in order. For all your effort in trying to get your friends to view me in a better light, you have only succeeded in shining brighter than ever.”

"What are you trying to say?"

"If anyone had any ulterior motives at all, it certainly isn't _me."_

Thor slammed a fist on the table. "Just out with it, Loki!" 

In retaliation, the table moved of its own volition and bumped hard into Thor’s chest as Loki snarled, “They all want something!”

He levelled Thor with a withering look; the well, dark and deep and dank, had well and truly broken.

"Look at you, ‘Thor, Son of Odin, Mighty God of Thunder.’ Your mortal sycophants, how they worshipped you for the blessings you brought, their lands not so barren, their wombs not as empty. Or have you forgotten them all?"

"You meant to rule them once, you tell me," Thor retorted. He instantly regretted the words the moment they left his words. "I am sorry, Brother."

But the apology, as sincere as it was, fell on deaf ears. "They do not stop wanting."

"Nor did we," Thor reminded him. "And they gave it to us. A new home."

“I don’t have it,” Loki said, his voice flat.

“You say that again,” Thor said softly, “And I will strike you where you stand."

"Make sure you don't miss this time," Loki replied, just as softly.

In an instant, the anger drained out of Thor. The storm receded, and tears surged in its stead.

At the sight of Thor’s welling eyes, Loki felt his knees go wobbly. He allowed himself to sit on the sofa, as close to his brother as he dared.

After a short eternity,

"What is...what is this home you speak of?" Loki asked meekly. "New Asgard?"

"Asgard is no more."

"What then?"

Thor shook his head. " _Who,”_ he corrected. “Me." 

Loki only looked at him dully

"Why can’t you see me, Loki?” Thor implored quietly.

“I always see you, Thor.”

Loki hugged himself as he slumped forward, his hair falling over his face like a veil. “You are all I see. And perhaps, therein lies the problem.”

Thor took in a deep breath. “No. The problem lies with me. Took me more than a thousand years and then some to finally see _you.”_

“Oh?”

"And you were right, of course," Thor said, his expression composed in neutrality. "The humans will live. Five minutes in the Regeneration Cradle back at the laboratory would have patched them up in no time. They never needed you."

"Well, well. That confirms my suspicion," Loki said cheerily. "Bullies, all you lot."

"It's not bullying, brother dear," Thor said gently. "It is their way of making other people feel included, valued as part of the team."

 _"Used,"_ Loki corrected, eyes suddenly red-rimmed. "Look me in the eye and tell me it is not the same."

Thor's silence was deafening.

"As always, you refrain from speaking in moments that truly matter," Loki sighed. "A bully by any other name is still a bully. No matter the universe, no matter the species." 

"I am sorry you still feel that way, Brother," Thor said apologetically. "And please, do not take my silence for indifference. I simply do not know what else I can say to convince you."

"Convince me of what, pray tell?"

"That I am trying to do better," Thor said quietly. "To _be_ better."

"You are a good king, Thor," Loki finally said grudgingly.

"Not at playing king." A slow shake of the head. "At being your brother."

The pregnant pause stretched into seconds on end, neither capable of mustering the courage to break the silence.

"The things you say sometimes," Loki managed.

"Unlike you, my way with words is rather...lacking."

Loki shut his eyes so he would not see his hand reaching for his brother, the only family he had left in the universe. He needed only to follow the comforting static of Thor's resting energy in the air. "It is enough."

Thor patted the back of Loki's hand with affection. “So...are we done fighting for the day?”

Now that the moment had passed, he released his grip around Thor's forearm and stood.

“I did not realise we were doing anything other than having a conversation,” Loki said. 

“It’s hard to tell when I’m talking to the back of your head most of the time.”

“I don’t need to look at anyone’s face to listen to them. We Jotuns have ears too, you know,” Loki said haughtily.

Thor threw a cushion. He had always had perfect aim, and it hit Loki right on the bridge of his nose. “Your Wizard friend needs to come home quickly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Loki said in annoyance, rubbing his reddened nares.

“You’re savage when he’s not around.” 

Thor leaned back against the couch and raised his eyebrows at his brother meaningfully. “More so than usual.”

“Do not ascribe what can be explained by malice to ennui, Thor.” 

“I knew it,” Thor said, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “You miss him.”

The blush that instantly coloured Loki’s cheeks looked out of place by the virtue of its rarity, but it was no less endearing. “I do not!”

“Yes, you do! You join in these ‘trivial’ fights in the off chance that you might catch a glimpse of him, and you’ve been sour as of late because you knew you wouldn’t.” 

A vicious grin broke across Thor’s face, and for a second, Loki felt transported to a time when they were younger, gallivanting across the Nine Realms in search of adventure. “But you joined us anyway, since it would be very telling if you did not.”

“Thor, I swear if you tell a single soul...”

The vicious grin widened. "Having said that, I should take a page out of your book on how to express my affection for our friends. I rather enjoyed the look on friend Stark's face when you swapped his breakfast spread for Vegemite."

"At least I made sure it was organic." Loki struggled to contain his glee, but soon he was snickering too. "Get Darryl to send us some more."

"I...don't think the Grandmaster’s returned him to our solar system yet, no.”

Loki’s smile vanished and he abruptly returned to his reflection in the mirror, but Thor had a suspicion it was less Darryl’s fate at the hands of the Grandmaster, more the prolonged absence of a certain someone that was the cause of his little brother’s heartsickness. 

As much fun as it was to tease (heaven knew Loki deserved it), but if there was a shred of hope that Loki had finally found in someone a degree of familiarity and comfort, Thor would hold on to it so tightly that whoever dared come for it would need to pry it out of his cold, dead hands.

“I don’t see why you can’t just visit him in Kong Hong,” Thor said critically. “I reckon it is equivalent to paying one’s special friend a visit at his workplace. Take the other day for example, friend Stark was over the moon when the beguiling Lady Potts surprised him with an invitation to lunch a deux.”

He leaned forward eagerly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Or are you afraid of being perceived as too eager?”

“Your absurdity is astounding.” Loki turned and placed an indignant hand on his hip. “And it is Hong Kong, by the way. You’re Head of State now, _please_ get your act together.”

"So he is back, I take it?"

"What?"

"That's the third change of clothes you've tried on."

"Shut up." Loki's face coloured. "W-Which one do you think - ?"

"Depends on the occasion."

Loki's face coloured even more.

"The olive jumper," Thor said kindly. "Edgy, but not too edgy. Brings out the colour of your eyes."

He rolled his own baby blues when Loki threw precisely the jumper onto the discard pile and put on his black dress shirt instead, the same one he had worn multiple times before.

“So what sets your good doctor apart then?" Thor looked his Brother up and down curiously. "For you to go to all this effort?"

"Stephen knows better than to ask," Loki answered absently, choosing to do his tie by hand. 

Loki's vague answer served its purpose, but if he thought it would deter Thor from probing further, he had another think coming. 

"Heaven forbid that anyone should suffer for want of some sympathy and care, Brother," Thor said. "Especially when you are in the position to give it."

"Why, you forget, Brother. He is the Sorcerer Supreme. He could eat me for breakfast," Loki said lightly. "That is a Midgardian saying, in case you didn’t know.”

Thor looked scandalously appalled. "I should ask if you meant that literally, but I am afraid to."

"Very wise, my King." 

The grin on Loki's face was indisputably wicked; the next thing Thor knew, he was suffocating on cashmere. By the time he freed himself from a tangle of killer knitwear, its elusive owner had gone in a puff of green smoke.

"Do not forget, C is for Conception!" Thor bellowed after the smoke. 

He looked at the sweater in his hands. He changed his mind about ripping it into shreds and began ironing out the creases with his giant hand instead. It really was a nice colour on Loki. 

"See? I know my sayings too."

* * *

_Sanctum Sanctorum_

Stephen found Loki draped all over the chaise longue like a sleek Bombay cat, and all thought of a hot shower and a lukewarm meal disappeared. 

"Hi."

"Hey.” Stephen was too exhausted to overthink the wisdom of kissing Loki before washing up. Loki did not seem to mind the stink, judging by how reluctantly he pulled away. “You’re a sight for sore eyes."

"Rough day?"

"Kinda. Shouldn't complain, really. The nature of the job and all that."

"I am sensing a great imbalance in you, Doctor." 

"Yes...that's because my circulation's been replaced by coffee three times over. I haven't had much sleep recently, what with all these mysterious portals popping up all over the country." Stephen stifled a yawn, praying it would escape Loki’s notice. As flattering as it was to be on the receiving end of it, he was not a fan of Loki's passive-aggressive brand of motherhenning.

"That's certainly very strange..." Loki’s eyes widened in feigned wonder. “We all know caffeine is the cure for poor sleep. Maybe you should drink some more.”

Since two could play at that game, Stephen looked right into Loki's eyes and smiled in adoration. "I've missed you."

"You mock me." But Loki was smiling too; there was something about not having seen each other for over a week that was making him a lot more forgiving and pliant than usual. Then his eyes narrowed. "A week and still no answer to the mystery. Why are you not letting me in on all the fun?"

"There's nothing fun about going on a wild goose chase when all you have to go on are unreliable eyewitness accounts and dubious photos taken by so-called paranormal seekers.” 

Loki frowned. “What do you mean? Were the sightings not legit?”

“The surge of dimensional energies where they are sighted is real enough, but by the time one of us gets there to investigate, nothing. No portal, no residual energy, no trace of anything coming in or out.” 

Stephen slowly took off his tunic and sat down heavily on the edge of the chaise longue. "SHIELD's sent out their own people to scout once or twice, but even their fastest Strike Team couldn't make it in time before the portals disappeared."

"Speaking of portals…" Loki walked his knees closer and wrapped his arms around Stephen's collarbones from behind, coaxing his human lover to fall backward against him. “The imbalance I am sensing is in yours.”

“Hmm?”

"There are cosmic portals that run through the centre of your body, from the top of your head to the base of your spine." Loki's hands began to explore Stephen's bare chest. "I believe you call them chakras?"

Stephen's face spasmed; after a split-second the twinge passed, but not quickly enough for Loki’s sharp eyes. 

"What?"

"Nothing. Just a sudden rush of deja vu," Stephen said placatingly, his thumb rubbing contemplative circles over the back of Loki's hand. "It was The Ancient One's favourite subject to talk about at dinner time. She would take one look at you, and could tell which of your chakras was blocked and why."

"Is that so?” Loki felt a sudden thrill. “Well. Let's see if I am as good as the late Sorcerer Supreme, shall we?" 

Loki's other hand resumed its searching until it came to a stop over Stephen's lower abdomen, right below his navel. "Just as I thought. Your sacral chakra is all clogged up."

"How can you tell?"

"Hmm. I do not know if I should elaborate. It might not be appropriate." Loki's salacious grin teetered on the obscene side of glee. "Can you not just take my word for it?"

“When your every other word is steeped in double meaning?” 

Loki’s facial expression may be one of indignation, but that could only be pride in his eyes. “Let’s just say your...pelvic area is in dire need of a little TLC.”

“You don’t say,” Stephen murmured. All the stroking was doing all sorts of things to the area in question, but a lassitude was stealing up on him, the likes of which he had not felt in a long time. As he was about to close his eyes, he sensed the rippling of magic in the air.

He opened his eyes just in time to see Loki pluck a potion bottle and a gemstone the colour of grapefruit out of his pocket dimension. 

“Carnelian,” Loki murmured, holding it aloft. “To bring clarity, and focus.”

Stephen nodded his consent, and marvelled at just how amenable he had become to his lover’s machinations. The Stephen Strange of five years ago would have balked at the idea of wiling away his spare hours being languorously pampered by the notorious God of Mischief. 

His abdomen quivered where Loki dropped a few drops of the potion, and a whiff of lemon and lavender wafted in the air. 

He gave Loki a quizzical look.

"You're tired, in more ways than one," Loki said. He began massaging in the oil gently. Every now and then, his lips would chant a mantra in a language Stephen did not know, lyrical and mellifluous in places. 

He relaxed against Loki, surrendering to his ministrations. Gradually, he felt a little less foggy and a little more centered, the vortex wheel of energy circulating within him not as chaotic anymore. “God, that feels good.”

But Stephen could not shake the feeling that something was bothering Loki, troubling enough for him to go to great lengths hiding behind this false air of merriment and forced joviality.

"Why the long face, Loki? Did something happen while I was gone?" It did not escape him, how the beating of Loki's ancient heart had picked up pace in direct response to his probing.

A simple 'nothing' was not going to cut it with Stephen. What always worked was answering a question with another question, the more misleading the better. 

"How did you survive this?"

"What?" Stephen lifted his head off Loki’s chest to look down at himself. His pectorals tensed as Loki’s cold fingers traced an indiscernible symbol over the puckered scar where Lucian Aster had once rammed a metal rod into his heart.

"Christine," he answered simply. 

"Ah, Christine. The lifesaver. However shall I compare?" Loki murmured with a subtle edge to his voice.

Jealousy did not mix well with Loki's competitive streak, and Stephen was beginning to regret telling Loki the truth. 

"When you say things like that it makes me wonder if you're going to stab me and then heal me just to make a point." 

The way Loki kept stroking the scar made Stephen do a double take. "Oh my god you _are_ seriously thinking of stabbing me, aren't you?"

"Fear not, Doctor. I would not gamble with your life like that," Loki said lightly. The awkwardness in the ensuing silence alluded to Loki’s desire to say more, but strangely, he remained mum.

"It is only a scar, Loki."

He did not know what surprised him more: the fact that he could read Loki’s silence like a book, or why he was expecting Loki to speak at all.

"Would you rather I had lied to you?" Stephen asked quietly.

"I am grateful that you did not. I had hoped we have reached the point in our relationship where there is enough mutual respect that we do not knowingly lie to each other." Loki then hurriedly added a caveat while they were still in the preliminary stages in the argument, "At least, not without good reason."

"Fair point, Odinson." 

Loki mulled over his next words and wondered if risking Stephen's displeasure was worth satiating his curiousity. But alas, Loki of Asgard played by no one’s rules but his own. "What lie would you have told me to spare my feelings?"

"The easiest. I could say the Time Stone did it."

“Would you not have felt insulted if I had then gone on to accept that as the truth?”

"I chose to tell it. I would have to live with it."

Loki felt a thrill run through him. "It excites me sometimes as to how alike we are. I, too, choose my lies wisely."

Stephen chuckled; he had yet to meet anyone more gifted than Loki in the art of giving backhanded compliments. In contrast, he preferred to give it straight. "You're very good at this."

Loki made a face. "You cannot possibly be impressed by this, this is elementary."

"You really suck at accepting praises, you know that?"

"I don't see why I should celebrate my mediocrity. Healing is not my strong suit."

"Could have fooled me."

"It was not my favourite subject, no. I was too bloodthirsty to develop a knack for it. My Mother gave up in the end."

Loki’s tone had taken a turn, weighed down by the gravity of profound loss. It was Stephen's cue to change the subject if there was to be any hope of salvaging the night. 

"Since you're here...something's bugging me about these portals. Maybe you could help shine some light on the matter?"

"Of course, Doctor." Loki's smile, wide as it was, made his absence of mind more pronounced. "What is it?"

"You know a lot about birds, don’t you?”

“Well, I am no ornithologist, but I can tell when a nightingale’s song ends and a lark’s begins.” 

And just like that, Loki returned to the present, and the kiss they then shared was the sweetest one yet of the evening.

“So get this, everytime there’s been a sighting, people also saw birds not native to the area.”

"What kind of birds?" Loki murmured against Stephen’s lips.

"Hmm?" Stephen was getting distracted.

"The birds," Loki pulled away, ignoring Stephen’s mewl of protest. "What were they? Crows? Owls?"

Stephen was quiet, before he finally answered. "Magpies."

Loki's face changed. "Strange."

"Yeah?"

"Take me with you the next time you go."

"I don't know, Loki - " Stephen began, but Loki interrupted him with a curt, "That was not a request."

Loki's tone softened, but the grimness in his voice remained. “You have to learn to read the messages the universe is trying to tell you, Doctor. Magpies are gatekeepers of another dimension."

"Which one?"

"That's what we have to find out, Stephen."

Hearing the fear in Loki's voice was one thing, but to see it in the expressive green eyes was disconcerting.

"Glitches in the fabric of the universe," Loki murmured, his eyes far away. "I knew things have been too quiet lately."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes!
> 
> 1\. The Chronicoms and the Shrike are canon villains from Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. throughout Seasons 6 and 7, but no prior watching should be necessary. I have borrowed them for storytelling purposes and also because I wanted to inflict a great deal of pain and suffering onto my favourite characters.
> 
> 2\. Katniss (District 12) and Foxface (District 5) are characters from Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games. 
> 
> 3\. Jagen H'ghar is a character from Game of Thrones, one of the Faceless Men of Braavos, a feared order of mysterious assassins with the ability to change their appearance at will.
> 
> 3\. Darryl, sweet Darryl, is Thor's former roommate during his stint in Australia post-Battle of Sokovia. After Thor's departure, the Grandmaster took his place. (Web Series: Team Thor, Team Thor Part 2, Team Darryl)
> 
> 4\. Vegemite is...Vegemite. I love the stuff. Looks like Nutella, tastes like ass, as Dean Winchester would say. But it's rich in Vitamin B12? 😅
> 
> 5\. Seledka - salted or pickled herrings.
> 
> Seeing that I have about ten days to complete the MRBB challenge, new chapters will be posted every 1-2 days, barring unforeseen circumstances. It's been such a guilty pleasure writing this (whump? check. fluff? check. angst? check check. beautiful art? check check CHECK), hope y'all enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

Quiet was indeed a precious commodity, and their solitude was soon disturbed by none other than Master Wong, Stephen’s trusted right-hand man and very able Guardian of the Sanctum Sanctorum.

“Good morning, Master Wong,” Loki purred, barely looking up from his cup of tea. 

Stephen shot up to a sitting position, hiking the covers higher up his chest. “Wong! Don’t you ever knock?”

“I did.”

“He did.” Loki admitted, his smile demure and apologetic. “Just a little silencing spell. You look so peaceful when you - ” 

_sleep_

“ - meditate.”

“Sorry to interrupt your...morning meditation, but I’m afraid there is something that needs the Sorcerer Supreme's attention,” Wong said, eyeing Stephen knowingly. 

"This had better be urgent, Wong," Stephen grumbled.

"It's definitely hot." Wong turned around as Stephen rolled out of bed and pulled on his pants. "Scorching, in fact."

"There's no need for such secrecy, Master Wong. I never listen in on your conversations. Stephen can attest to that." Loki’s smile turned mischievous. "Unless they are about me, of course."

"Why would they be?" he asked in typical Wong fashion, his tone polite but dry enough that Loki found himself reasonably assured of his welcome in The Sanctum. 

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a tapping sound on the window. Loki placed the book on the side table and stood. 

With a cry of delight, he opened the bay window. “Raven!”

A black bird flew and landed on his out-stretched arm. 

Loki listened intently to a message only he could hear. At his nod, the raven pressed its beak against Loki’s cheek for a fleeting second before it lifted off its perch, flying into the distance. 

“I’m afraid I too have to go,” he announced. “Thor has need of me.” 

Stephen wondered if it was in any way related to the alert he had received. “Anything serious?” _Or dangerous?_ His eyes asked the real question.

“No more serious than yours, I'm sure,” Loki said. “But just as urgent, if the message is to be believed.” 

Wong had never been big on decorum, but he still did not quite know where to put his eyes when Loki grabbed the front of Stephen’s shirt and pulled his lover bodily against him. 

“I look forward to an encore of last night’s performance, Stephen.” 

His cheeky grin indicative of his intention to put on a show of his own, Loki planted a gleeful, sound kiss on Stephen’s lips. 

“Think of me fondly, Doctor. Master Wong.” 

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face, Stephen.” Wong gave his Sorcerer Supreme a sharp nudge with his elbow the minute Loki disappeared in a cloud of green smoke. 

“Stop smiling yourself.”

“What was that thing with the bird?” Wong pondered. “Was he just pulling my leg? And why raven? That’s like calling your cat cat. And what does he have against cell phones, anyway?"

“He doesn't like pockets,” Stephen muttered. “And yeah, it's an actual thing. He calls it Raven, as in Mystique, you know that shapeshifter lady from the X-Men. The blue one, she's his favourite.” 

At the bewildered look on Wong’s face, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask.”

“A Norse god and the Sorcerer Supreme, watching superhero movies together,” Wong said, sounding impressed for the first time. “Just when I thought I've seen it all.” 

“Goodness, Wong. One might think you have never gone out with a man before. Or woman.” 

Stephen swept out of the bedroom with a majestic swish of the Cloak, remembering too late what Wong once said about him, that he tended to be more dramatic the more flustered he was. 

“I was just humouring him, you know.”

“Sure you were.” Wong followed suit, trailing a few steps behind his clearly besotted friend. “What were you humouring him with?”

“Chakras, what else?”

“Interesting topic of conversation. No wonder it lasted all night.”

“Wong…” Stephen said warningly. 

“The Sahara, it is!” Wong said merrily, shoving a sandwich in Stephen’s face with one hand, and opened a portal with the other. “Eat up. We’ve got work to do.”

* * *

“Now this is a much warmer welcome than the one I received the last time I was here,” Loki said in mock delight, walking into the helicarrier command centre with Thor close in tow. 

“There are still guns pointing at you from every direction, so don’t get your hopes up," Clint said. 

“Oh, I shan’t,” Loki said merrily. “The view from up here is amazing compared to the one from inside the glass cage. I see you have rebuilt another. So sorry for destroying the last one.”

“One day I am going to wipe that smirk off your face with my fist,” Tony muttered.

“So violent, Stark,” Loki tsk-tsked. “You are fortunate I am in a fairly good mood today. I will help you.”

“Hallelujah,” Clint said dryly. 

“Show me the prisoner,” Loki said grandly. A short while later, he was standing outside the containment cell he had once occupied himself. 

Loki stared at the lone Chronicom sitting on a chair in the middle of the cell.

“Couldn’t get a word out of him,” Clint murmured grudgingly. “He doesn’t sleep, doesn’t eat. Kinda reminds me of you. _Boss_.”

“How sweet of you,” Loki said. “He is wearing your friend’s face, and yet it is I who haunts your thoughts.”

“Are we seriously doing this now?” Tony asked impatiently. “As much as I love a heart-to-heart between frenemies, I’m a very busy man. And call me curious, but I kinda want to see what’s under all that...packaging.”

“Blocks of polymer. Bits and bolts.” Loki smirked. “A lot of plastic.” 

“Huh. So no organic brain,” Tony mulled. “For all our sakes, I hope this works, but at the same time, I kinda want to see you fall flat on your face for once.”

“Organic or not, it does not matter. Pulling memories out of a brain is like drinking a milkshake through a straw. The thickness of the shake is irrelevant. What matters is the straw," Loki said, clenching and unclenching his fists. "You just have to make it big enough.”

He approached their stoic captive with the kind of glee one would expect in a child let loose in a candy store. “I’ve always wanted to try it on a Chronicom."

Suddenly an alarm sounded and controlled chaos began to unfold.

“What is going on?” Clint spoke into his communication device as agents and armed personnel ran past them in all directions

“We’re under attack,” Natasha’s voice blared through the radio; Clint and Loki exchanged glances of alarm (Clint) and annoyance (Loki) at the interruption. “It’s the Lighthouse."

Nestled on the bank of Lake Ontario, the Lighthouse was one of SHIELD’s covert bases of operations, an impregnable fortress hidden deep underwater. 

“Initial report says it’s not going to hold unless back-up gets there fast. We’re about a hundred miles out, so I’m taking the Quinjet. Director’s orders,” Natasha spoke in a rush. “Cap’s already with me. Anyone else coming?”

“I am,” Thor announced, Stormbreaker already in hand. 

“It has begun,” the Chronicom said matter-of-factly through the glass. “There is nothing you can do to stop it.”

“Sounds fun,” Tony said dryly, pressing on his chest to activate the nano-bots. “Sorry, Lokes. Would love to stay and watch but duty calls. Don’t worry, I’ll watch over big brother for ya - hey, Thundercat, wait up!”

“I thought he would never leave,” Loki sighed. “Shouldn’t you go?”

“And leave you running loose on the Helicarrier? Hell no.” Clint crossed his arms across his chest. “Besides, you don’t have the codes to open the cage.”

They stared at each other, the air heavy with undercurrents of unresolved tension and distrust. 

“Suit yourself,” Loki said mildly. Instead of appealing to Clint’s charitable nature for the codes, he teleported right into the confinement capsule, leaving Clint outside, looking absolutely pissed. 

“Now.” Loki smiled widely. “Alex, was it?” 

* * *

_The Lighthouse, Lake Ontario_

“They’ve taken Zephyr One,” Natasha relayed the latest development on the attack on The Lighthouse. “We are to engage with it in the air and recapture it. We’re two miles out.”

“Circle round the back, and get me as close as you can.” Captain America hoisted his shield onto his back, getting ready to jump. As they got in closer, a white, nondescript lighthouse came into view, jutting out on the precipice of a cliff. 

“Is that it?” Thor pointed out the front windshield. “The Lighthouse?”

“Most of the bunker’s deep underground, literally and figuratively,” Natasha said. “They could not have infiltrated it unless they had someone on the inside.”

Thor frowned. “Loki said they steal faces, these Chronicoms. They could have stolen more than faces. Identities. Knowledge.”

“Intel on SHIELD,” Natasha finished, cursing silently. 

Suddenly the waters below them opened up, and through the gaping maw, a sleek, matte-black plane triple their size emerged. 

“I have eyes on Zephyr One.” She turned her head around to look at the others crowding behind her. “So how are we doing this?”

“Where is it?” Tony squinted out the windshield. 

“It was right...there…” Natasha’s voice trailed off.

“Zephyr One’s gone into Cloak Mode.” She checked the panels and the sensors in front of her again just to be sure. “Yeah, I’ve lost visual. It’s gone stealth. There’s no way to track it.”

“Yes, there is.” Tony’s visors slid down. “We just have to fly around until we hit it.”

“No, Tony, wait!” Natasha cried, but her objection fell on deaf ears; her fingers flew across the console as she frantically recalibrated her parameters to optimise her radar settings. The look of alarm on her face did not go unnoticed. 

“What is it?” Thor asked. 

"The Zephyr’s a mothership for Quinjets itself, so it’s got our specs loaded in its system. Our shield’s been deactivated by long-range input from the Zephyr.” 

Something glinted in the far distance, emerging out of thin air as if by magic. Thor's mouth felt suddenly dry. "Are those _missiles_ heading towards us?"

The plane nose-dived wildly as Natasha struggled to maintain control and swerve out of the line of fire at the same time. “Can’t shake them, missile’s locked on target - _Tony!”_

A repulsor beam shot out, and hit one of the missiles dead-center, but it was not enough to halt its trajectory; Tony had to use both hands to bombard it with enough firepower to slow it down and could only watch the other missile shoot past him, heading straight for the defenseless Quinjet.

“Thor!”

* * *

"I do not normally do this without permission, but I have been told of your reticence and I wonder...should I even bother asking for consent?" Loki mulled. 

Clint watched Loki circle around their prisoner for the tenth time, growing antsier by the second. “Can you get on with it? Nat might need help.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” Loki said coolly. “You may go if you like.”

“And leave you alone with him? No chance.”

Loki smirked. "Your concern for my well-being is flattering, Hawk." 

Clint snorted. “You’re a riot. I wasn't kidding about the guns so don't go getting any ideas about domesticating him." _Like you did me_ , the unspoken words hung in the air between them, tense and heavy.

"You give me too much credit. I have no power over minds." Loki gracefully went down on one knee; even in such position, he towered over his subject. _"I only read them."_

Without so much as a warning, Loki's hand shot out, faster than the eye could see.

The Chronicom's forehead burned as hot as coals under his grasp, but Loki held fast as millions of images flooded his mind, unhindered and unfiltered. Data flowed faster than memories he realised, and it _burned_. 

_Pull away!_ Loki yelled at himself. He could hear Clint hammering away on the glass and realised a little too late that his screams were not as internal as he had thought. 

With a gasp, Loki severed the physical and mental bond, reeling backward until his back collided with the glass wall with a great rattle.

"What - " he tried to speak, but quickly found out he had no air left in his chest to do it.

"What do you see?" Clint was still shouting and pounding. "Loki?!"

“I see a planet decimated by a disease...a disease that spread quickly from one to another at the speed of wings,” Loki managed to keep the tremble out of his voice, but not his hands; he had no doubt Clint could see them shake where he hid them behind his back. “What were those things?”

“The ones infected turned quickly. It was not long before our home was lost.” 

“When you say turned,” Loki said carefully, “what do you mean?”

“You will see soon enough,” Alex said, his casual tone making his calm demeanour all the more ominous. “A handful of us fled on ships and are now scattered across the galaxies.”

“How many of you?”

“Too few.” ‘Alex’ smiled. “Too many. Care to guess how many of us are waiting just outside your orbit?” 

“Why are you here?”

“We tracked them here,” Alex said. “The Shrike. Thought we might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

“That is awfully kind of you,” Loki said tightly. “Though I can’t imagine it will be easy. Earth has protectors and wizards now, in case you didn’t get the memo.”

“Yes...that was a neat trick, by the way. Waltzing into the room like you just walked through glass.” Alex regarded him with greedy eyes. “Once we get our hands on you, we will learn your secrets and our Inter-Planetary Conveyance Discs will be a thing of the past.”

“Trinkets are for children,” Loki said softly. “And I have many faces.” 

Alex shrugged. “We can look like anyone. With our cerebral perfusion machine, we can _be_ anyone. Even you, Loki of Asgard. Son of Odin. Child of - ” 

Blood roared in Loki’s ears, mercifully drowning out the forbidden name, but there was no mistaking the filth uttered from the Chronicom’s lips. 

He staggered backward, hitting his back against the wall. He could hear Clint banging on the glass from outside. 

“Do you think you are the only one capable of memory extraction and manipulation? You are tens and thousands of years behind, Asgardian." Alex’s smile grew wider. "Or shall I say, Jotu-"

He did not have the chance to finish the sentence for Loki had punched through his chest and violently ripped out a round, glowing object the size of Tony’ arc reactor.

The light drained out of Alex’s eyes and his body sagged to the side. 

“What the hell did you do?” Clint yelled. 

His face illuminated by the luminosity of the energy core, Loki’s eyes burned a smouldering green. He watched the oscillations dwindle and sputter before finally dying out. “I ripped out his heart.”

“Loki,” Bruce called out suddenly through the intercom from where he must be watching somewhere on the ship. He sounded especially nervous. “Sun’s going down, buddy.”

“What?” The absurdity of Bruce’s words slowly pulled Loki back to reality. He turned around.

The fluorescence of the confinement capsule rendered everything outside it dark as though something had obliterated all natural light from entering the helicarrier; he could barely see Clint’s form as the archer ran around the glass cage to see what the commotion was all about. 

Loki teleported out of the cell, and reappeared on the main observation deck. The sky outside had darkened, catatumbo lightning raining down from a mass of storm clouds straight onto the waters below like giant Lichtenberg figures.

“This isn’t me!” he yelled. He could barely hear himself over the deafening sounds of thunder. 

“Are you sure?” Bruce hollered from the opposite gallery where he was standing. "If it's not you, then who -?"

Loki’s stomach plummeted. _No._

* * *

By sheer luck, Natasha managed to break the Zephyr’s remote control over their vessel and kept the hangar door open long enough for Tony to bring Thor on board. 

She quickly unbuckled her seat belt and ran to the back of the ship. "Oh God."

"Surely it isn't that bad…" Thor said with a sickly smile, his pallor a stark contrast to the golden of his hair. 

"No, no, it's not bad at all. Just a scratch." Tony swore under his breath. "We're gonna get you some help okay, buddy?"

"Of course. Even if it is just a scratch. Can't be too careful." Thor's eyes began to close, to everyone's collective cries, 

"No!" "Stay awake!"

“The Zephyr?” Steve asked tightly.

“We’re flying under Stealth mode, no one can see us,” Natasha said thickly. She watched in horrified fascination as blood poured down Thor’s torso in a cascade of red and black. “What do we do? Do we take it out?”

“I don’t know.” Tony's face was ashen. “Can you get us down somewhere?” _To someone?_ “Strange!”

“What is?” Natasha grappled for the oxygen apparatus on the side of the wall, pulling it closer toward them. 

“No, Stark’s right. Doctor Strange, he could help us.” Steve looked haunted. “God help us.”

“Loki,” Thor grunted softly. 

“He’s a hundred miles away, buddy, he can’t hear you, just hang in there -”

“Brother.” A very irritable, waspish voice hissed from behind, “What in Odin’s name did you do?”

"He caught a missile," Tony said dimly. "In his gut."

Loki stormed past. "Let me at him."

"Thor, you _fool,"_ Loki berated, spewing expletive after expletive so vulgar his Allspeak did the equivalent of disabling itself, but the rage on his face was saying plenty. "Can you not fight one battle unsupervised without getting yourself killed?"

"You know that sounds very familiar." Thor laughed weakly. "When have you ever listened to me?"

"If I could live through a chest filled with Kursed blade, you can certainly survive this flimsy Midgardian flint," Loki growled.

A rattled Iron Man felt compelled to object. "Hey, I take offense to that. Besides that is unlike any metal I've seen, and believe me, I know my metals."

Loki’s eyes flashed. "Cease your jabbering, mortal." 

"Right now Point Break's looking pretty mortal himself," Tony pointed out. 

“What - ” Thor swallowed hard, his face a sickly grey. “What does he mean by that?” His bloody hand scoured the air and found Loki’s. “Brother?”

"He means that there is a warhead lodged in your body, and you are the only thing keeping it from exploding and taking the entire ship with it,” Loki said. 

"Well, that's - reassuring and terrifying at the same time." Tony's voice had suddenly risen in pitch. "So all in favor of keeping it in, say aye!" 

The tasteless joke received a lacklustre chuckle, not surprisingly from the grievously wounded God of Thunder himself.

"Probably not for long, but I shall try to hold out for as long as it will take for you to drop me into the water and get out of here." 

"What does he mean by that?" Steve frowned. "We are doing no such thing."

"He means to let it implode and kill him, to spare the rest of you," Loki said flatly. "Trying to play martyr for once, I see."

"I've lived a long life, Loki. If this is it, then...this is it."

"Stop being so dramatic," Loki snapped. "You're going to make me laugh."

"Haven't heard you laugh in a long time, Brother," Thor gasped. "Wouldn't mind hearing it for the last time."

"Stop. Please." Loki made a show of rolling his eyes, but there was a note of desperation in his voice. "Could you assist me and hold my brother down, Captain? He is going to struggle and possibly electrocute you but you are the least likely to die out of you lot, so it will have to be you, I'm afraid."

"That is very reassuring," Captain America muttered under his breath, but obliged. He bravely took hold of one arm, and Tony stepped up to the plate by taking the other.

"You jump, I jump, Cap." Tony flashed him his trademark daredevil smile. "Hope you know what you're doing, Bambi."

"If this doesn’t work, I suggest you take cover. But then again, if this thing explodes while it is still in my brother, I doubt you can outrun the black hole left behind, so." Loki shrugged. "Do what you like."

"Good lord, you are such a ray of sunshine," Tony muttered.

"He is, isn't he?" Thor choked back on a chuckle. Specks of blood spewed from his lips.

"Shut up, Thor." The gurgling sound his brother was making from the simple effort of breathing was grating on Loki's nerves. "Ready?"

Tony cast a worried look at the fast-fading Thor. "I like the taste of my own vomit, so what the hell."

"This is going to hurt," Loki said, his smile false and wide, all-teeth and zero reassurance. Incendiary bombs were the easiest to defuse after all...if only there was not one currently embedded in his brother’s body. 

With one hand, he grabbed the tail fins protruding from Thor’s abdomen, and gave the missile a mighty tug. Blocking out the squelching sound of metal separating from flesh, he persevered and kept on pulling. 

Just as the warhead came into view, Loki quickly wrapped his other hand around it and called upon his inherent ice magic to carefully freeze the explosive compounds within. 

“Bomb has been defused,” he said numbly, only half-aware of hands gingerly plucking the missile out of his grasp and dropping it to the floor like a hot potato. 

Undoubtedly the others had seen his hand turn blue and wisely held their tongue, but Loki could not care less about the blessed silence, for now the true test began. 

He placed one hand neatly over the gaping hole in Thor’s abdomen. His own stomach churned as the scent of blood wafted from where it seeped through his fingers, hot and cloying.

Cold sweat beaded his forehead as he poured more and more of his magic into Thor, coercing it to repair the myriad of internal injuries and knit the torn, fragile tissues together.

Loki had done this a hundred times before, on countless battlefields. Thor may have been the mightiest, but never the most careful of warriors. Without Loki, he would not have survived this long.

So why was it so difficult this time?

Because this time, it is the end, a voice said in his head.

Was this it? Was this the end?

No. Dying was not an option. Leaving Loki behind was not an option.

 _Thor,_ he called silently. 

His forehead found Thor’s, clammy with the dews of death.

For the first time in over a hundred years, Loki prayed. 

_Norns, guide my hands, guide my heart._

The Norns had always favoured Thor, and for once Loki was counting on it. 

_Take of me what you will. Spare him._

In an instant, as though a locked chest had suddenly been sprung open, a surge of energy suffused his entire body.

Right before his eyes, the wound began to close.

That’s it, he thought dimly, coaxing his own lifeforce to accept the terms of exchange. 

As the wound finally sealed and the blood on Thor’s armor dried, Loki’s nosebleed became more profuse.

He began to slump as his magic sputtered, falling too heavily and too suddenly for anyone to catch. His vision greyed around the edges, but he could not give in to the darkness just yet. Not before he knew if Thor lived.

“Loki, that’s enough,” he heard Thor’s gentle voice say, before his last tether to consciousness snapped, and Loki surrendered to the wretched emptiness of the void once more.


	3. Chapter 3

_New York City_

"How are you even walking and talking right now?" Bruce asked in wonder. 

They had since regrouped at the Avengers Tower and were now comparing notes, but Bruce was having a hard time believing the story even if Natasha was the one telling it.

"Are they not a learned skill universal to all sentient vertebrates when they come of age? We Asgardians usually say our first word at around...sixty? Seventy? Eighty is really pushing it."

"You've been earthside too long." Tony's mildly horrified expression mirrored the others'. "Your sense of humour is appalling."

He stood on tiptoe from behind the bar to peer over Thor's shoulder. "Rock of Ages not with you?"

"My Brother will not be joining us, no." Thor shook his head regretfully. "But he regains his strength by the hour. It will not be long till he is fighting fit again."

"Yeah, what was that all about?" Tony turned his back so no one could see his face, and took down a pint glass from the overhead cabinet. “You want one too, Cap?”

“No, thank you,” Steve said politely from where he was sitting on the couch. He was trying his best to relax and doing a piss-poor job of it. 

"Relax. Didn't Fury say the Triskelion's sending in people to retake the Lighthouse? If he needs us, he'll call us." Tony popped open a can of beer. "Sure you don't want one? Final offer."

"I'm good," Steve said with a firm shake of his head.

Tony shrugged and upended the entire can into Thor's glass. "I'm feeling extra generous today on the account of you almost dying so if you need something stronger, the bar's all yours."

Thor nodded his thanks. After a long pause and a pensive first sip, "You once asked why Loki chooses to heal some, but not all." 

"By some, you mean you? It's okay, buddy, there’s no need to explain. Preferential treatment aside, I'd probably care too if my own brother's bleeding out from a hole the size of Canada,” Tony said with his trademark smirk, albeit a gentler one. 

Thor hesitated again, and Tony wondered if he had not overstepped any boundaries; God knew these godly beings had issues. 

His eyes caught sight of someone, whose timing could not be better. "Ah, Doctor! Glad you could join us!"

It took Thor a few seconds to realise that Tony was talking to somebody over his shoulder.

"He doesn't look all that banged up to me," a voice spoke from behind.

"False alarm," Tony said simply. "Turned out to be nothing."

Doctor Stephen Strange blinked. "I hope you did not just brush impalement injuries off as 'nothing', Stark. Or were you being a drama queen when you called me?"

"There really was a lot of blood!" Tony protested, looking around for support. "That wasn't my imagination!"

"I don't see it," Stephen said, surveying Thor up and down like an entomologist would a very perplexing specimen.

"There is nothing to see." Thor could not help but puff his chest out a bit. "I am hale, thanks to Loki."

A quick look-over around Tony’s vast sitting area confirmed what Stephen had not found when he arrived: Loki was nowhere to be seen. He would never tell anyone this, but the younger Asgardian prince was always the first person he would look for when he walked into a room nowadays. 

Then he remembered Tony mentioning blood and his heart began to pound. Had Loki taken a hit for his brother? 

Tony saw the blanching of Stephen’s face. “Juliet’s fine, Romeo.”

“Who is this Juliet?” Thor asked, confused.

“It’s a codename.” Tony hid a snicker. “For your brother.”

“Ah.” Thor mulled. “I suppose it fits.”

“Can we focus?” Stephen snapped. “Start from the beginning and tell me what happened.”

"It would require some serious mojo to pull off a spell like that,” was Stephen’s only comment once Steve Rogers, chosen over Tony (the Avengers’ unofficial raconteur, self-designated no doubt), had finished retelling the story. 

If the intention was to avoid any embellishment to the tale, the Captain's staid delivery of the chain of events somehow managed to make everyone more appalled. 

Stephen stole a glance at Thor who was not only alive and well, but abusing his newly regenerated liver with some of the most expensive liquors from Tony Stark's cellar. "It's unprecedented and beyond the scope of modern medicine."

"Yes. Thor is lucky to be alive," Steve said looking spooked himself. "We didn't know if we could have reached you in time."

Stephen did not know what to make of this new knowledge about his lover. Loki was no paragon of modesty. He would not have been so humble about such masterly healing techniques. 

_So why hide them?_

An ugly thought reared its head in Stephen's mind. 

Had Loki been selecting which truths to tell this whole time? 

Sensing the disquietude in Stephen’s demeanour and mistaking it for concern, Thor took it upon himself to speak on his brother’s behalf. “Do not worry so, Wizard. Loki’s done it before. You can say that it comes naturally to him.”

“Naturally,” Stephen echoed, enunciating it as one would a question. 

“Yes. Seidr is...a manifestation of internal dialogue. It is as sentient as its wielder. Instinctive. Powerful. More so when it is used for healing.”

“Is that so?”

Thor nodded. There was no mistaking the pride in his voice. “Its potency is related to the intensity of the emotion evoked. The stronger your personal feelings are for a person, the more powerful it is.”

“So you’re saying Juliet wouldn’t hesitate to heal you but not the rest of us because he loves you, but hates our guts?”

“Love and hate are such strong words,” Thor said, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Loki has on many, many occasions confused them both.”

“You saw what happened after Loki healed me. Wrestling me from Hela's hands when I was so close to death...he would have had to take on some of the suffering as an offer to the Norns. The balance in the universe must not be disturbed." 

Thor turned sombre. 

“He would not have done that for just anyone. I have only ever seen Loki heal one other, our dear Mother. Perhaps if Loki had been with her at the end…" 

Thor did not end his sentence, which, in everyone's opinion, was wise of him.

He forced himself to smile instead. "Of course, it doesn't always work. I was fortunate. The Norns must have taken kindly to Loki for a change."

“I still don’t get it,” Clint said, shaking his head. “You either have the juice or you don’t. What about the random civilians we’ve seen him help? He does that sometimes, if he’s in a good enough mood.”

“A plate of pasta is a plate of pasta, yes? But what separates haute cuisine and spaghetti from a can? Experience. Passion.” Thor punctuated each word by pumping his fist in the air. _“Heart."_

“Right, right. Like in Ratatouille.” At the incredulous looks from all around, Clint raised his hands defensively. “Hey, it’s my kids’ favourite movie!”

Tony sniffed. "Read between the lines, Merida. Special people like Thor and Strange get Nobu, we get Wendy’s.” 

“Leave me out of it, Stark,” Stephen said tightly. 

Notoriously private, the Sorcerer Supreme kept few company and abhorred gossip. It was the reason why he got on swimmingly with Loki, and why he was not comfortable with their relationship being put in the spotlight for whatever reason.

Thor, wiser than anyone ever gave him credit for, steered the conversation away by utilising his flair for the dramatic. "You should all rejoice and be merry, for I am alive!"

Be merry? That, Tony could do. He could be and do merry very well. 

“Open bar, everyone!”

* * *

_New Asgard_

"Are you alright?"

"What do you mean?" Loki asked politely. The water in the bowl rippled slightly, as if resonating with the trepidation within him. "I am perfectly fine."

Loki almost never discussed Avenger-related issues with Stephen. Not that he was a stickler for rules and confidentiality clauses, but whenever he was with Stephen, work was always the last thing on his mind. 

With Stephen he was not a reformed war criminal seeking absolution through punitive acts of heroism. With Stephen, he was just...Loki.

Yet, judging by his lover's tight expression, Loki had a feeling Stephen knew what had transpired earlier that day. 

"I saw Thor."

Loki frowned. Thor had been back to his usual self when he saw Loki home and left for New York. Had his brother had a relapse, and Stephen was called? 

Trying not to appear frantic, he checked the abominable device they called a hand-held communicator for calls he might have missed when he was asleep, but there was none. 

"You have performed quite a feat, I heard." Stephen was using his probing, tell-me-more voice, the one Loki particularly disliked. 

"I am fine, Stephen," he stressed in mild annoyance.

Suddenly, Stephen's entire face filled the bowl, his eyes appearing more grey than their usual sky blue as they roamed Loki's face, searching for something.

"How bad is your headache?"

"I don't have a - "

"You are squinting and sitting in the dark," Stephen said flatly. "And there's vomit on your shirt."

_What?_

Loki pawed at his chest; his hand came away pristine. He raised his head and furiously met Stephen's triumphant gloat.

"Piss off," he snapped, and flicked his wrist, severing the connection.

Abruptly cut off mid-conversation, the image of Stephen's face swirled like a spiral illusion before it disappeared.

No sooner had Loki extinguished the connection than the bowl of water sang again, its calling song a melodious cacophony of chimes audible only to his keen sense of hearing. 

Early into the relationship, Loki had taught Stephen how to communicate through bodies of water. It was hardly appropriate courtship etiquette, but it was a pretty neat trick, if not a little demeaning. After all, that was how Odin used to hold audiences with his mortal subjects who dwelled in the more primitive Realms, Midgard being one of them. 

Loki ignored the waterphone call and turned onto his other side, burying his aching head under a pillow. 

Never go to bed angry, Stephen once said. It sounded like something old married couples would say. 

What a load of hogwash. Loki saw no problem going to bed however he wanted, and stewing in anger felt a lot more satisfying anyway.

But this begged the real question: Who was he really angry with? Dear Stephen, for calling his bluff? Or himself, for concealing the truth?

Loki raised a hand to the level of his eye, the very hand that had pulled Thor back from the brink of death.

Stephen was right in saying that it was no ordinary feat. 

It was the incontrovertible proof that Thor's life was more valuable to Loki than his own, as simple as that. The Norns would not have accepted the terms otherwise. 

He had been caught lying about his abilities, and Stephen, being the insufferable gentleman that he was, had chosen the high road and not mentioned it out of...what, courtesy? Aversion to conflict?

Or maybe Stephen enjoyed his position on the moral high ground too much to confront Loki about it.

_Or maybe he couldn't care less about it and was just worried about you, have you ever thought of that?_

Damn it all to Hel, Loki raged silently, wishing the hammer pounding away in his head would just put him out of his misery and bludgeon him into oblivion once and for all.

* * *

The Norns were kind enough to bestow upon Loki a dreamless sleep, but the blessed oblivion ended too soon when the morning rippled with a fluctuance that heralded the oncoming of something powerful.

Loki groaned aloud.

Powerful and familiar and although dearest, quite possibly the last person he wanted to see right this moment.

"Is it too late to ask for my keys back?" he croaked from underneath the mountain of pillows.

"That depends." Stephen swept his Cloak aside and sat carefully on the far end of the bed. "What time do you think it is?"

A bloodshot eye peeked through a crevice between the sheets. "You look very dusty." 

"Yeah, guess I forgot to clean up after our trip to the Sahara." 

"How exciting," Loki yawned. He threw back the covers and pushed himself up. 

Stephen took some time to respond. "If you consider chasing mirages exciting, then yes, I suppose it is."

Loki rubbed a weary hand across his gritty eyes. "I specifically remember telling you to take me with you."

"Well, you weren't exactly answering your calls." Stephen's dry answer was laced with a tinge of concern. "You look like death warmed up." 

"Thank you for the compliment."

"Are you running a fever?" Stephen asked, his suspicion receiving a blank stare in response. "I'm sweating just looking at you."

Hitching the collar of his turtleneck jumper higher until it almost touched his jawline, he mumbled, "Do you not find it a bit chilly this morning?" 

Loki waited with bated breath and hoped the deflection had not given him away. If he could get Stephen talking about something else, then maybe they could avoid the topic of Loki's hidden power of anastasis altogether.

“Can’t say I do. But I did just spend the entire morning tracking down magpies in the hottest desert in the world.”

“Where they definitely do not belong.” Loki found his curiousity stirred. “Did you find anything interesting?”

"I don't know about interesting, but..." Stephen opened a fist full of nondescript crystals, except for one that stood out among the rest. 

With a nudge of Loki's mind, the gemstone levitated off Stephen's open palm and hovered in the air. It glinted in the light, its pinkish-orange hue strikingly beautiful.

"Now that's something you don't see everyday." 

"What is it?"

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you've stumbled upon the biggest padparadscha sapphire in modern history," Loki said.

"Para-what?" 

"I thought you knew Sanskrit."

"Obviously not as well as I thought.” 

“It’s an ancient term used to describe the colour of a lotus." After a beat, Loki added a helpful, "The flower, not the car."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you for the clarification, Loki."

“Do you know the significance of the lotus flower, Stephen? Before all creation, there was nothing. And from nothing, suddenly there was water.” 

Loki unconsciously reached for his magic to conjure an illusion, but caught himself in time. His magic had not recovered near enough to be wasted on illusions.

“From these waters, a single lotus emerged, and when the petals finally came into bloom, so did Amun-Ra, the Sun God. You humans came from his tears of joy.”

“Right. That’s...nice to know.”

“Would you be kind enough to allow me to read it?”

“Read it?”

“You found it,” Loki said pointedly.

“Go ahead.” 

“The lotus is the only known plant to flower and bear fruit at the same time. It is the embodiment of creation itself.”

Eyes bright at last with unbridled excitement, Loki plucked the sapphire out of the air. "I wonder what this one has created…" 

He carefully closed his fingers over the gem tightly in the palm of his hand, and took a deep breath.

“Just as I thought, it feels alive,” Loki murmured. “No, not alive. What is the word…it is not inert. It feels - ” _like_ _the aether_ , he almost said. “Purposeful.”

“Are you saying that the crystal is sentient?”

“I am saying it is a _vessel_." Loki's face turned dark. "Or was.” 

Stephen’s heart began to pound. "Genie's out of the bottle?"

Loki gave him an odd look. "Djinns could be found in all kinds of inanimate objects but they are certainly not bound by them. They exist among you, and they can look like anyone." He shook his head. "But no, this is no djinn dwelling place. This is something else." 

He visibly hesitated. 

"What is it?" Stephen asked, his concern pertaining to the creature in question and the peculiar expression on Loki's face both. 

Psychometry on any other day was child's play, a passive undertaking that required little magic.

This is going to hurt, Loki thought as he closed his eyes again, bracing himself for the onslaught of pain that often accompanied overstretching his magic.

True enough, the migraine that had receded overnight returned with a vengeance, red-hot and pulsatile. 

Images flashed through his Mind's eye, of dim figures shrouded in cloaks with shrivelled skulls for faces, a trinity of Watchers, standing watch over a sepulchre made of stone,

 _The First. The Second. The Third_.

A young girl picked the crystal from the sand, nubile and innocent.

A gust of red smoke billowed and began to take the form of a woman, its grotesque features contorting to resemble the unfortunate creature who had set it free.

"Loki, snap out of it!"

His eyes flew open. His head lolled backward, and he nearly choked on the sudden deluge of blood flowing down the back of his throat. 

"I see them," he gasped. “The Three.”

He felt fingers squeeze the soft part of his nose, a firm hand pushing his head down.

A voice calmly said in his ear, “Just hold still. Breathe through your mouth.” 

"That spell took a lot out of you," Stephen murmured into Loki's hair. No elaborating was necessary when they both knew which spell he meant.

"Can't help myself around glowy, shiny things. Never could."

"I have half a mind to toss the thing into the Bermuda Triangle."

"What a shame. It could have paid for a new penthouse in Manhattan. I get this unbearable urge to burn Stark's place to the ground sometimes."

Stephen harrumphed to keep from snorting, but said nothing.

“Remind me,” Loki mumbled ages later; the nosebleed had thankfully stopped but the baseline headache remained, throbbing and persistent. “Where else have you chased these mirages?”

“Cairo in Egypt. The Suicide Forest of Aokigahara. The Old Corpse Road in Cumbria.” 

Stephen’s mind was racing. Why had he mentioned the Bermuda Triangle? Was his subconscious hinting at something his concrete thinking was failing to see? 

“The Pyramids of Giza," he breathed out as realisation finally dawned on him.

Loki nodded into Stephen’s chest. “Mount Fuji.”

“That church in Mardale.”

“All convergence points of major ley lines, yes.” Loki lifted his head, eyes slightly off-focus. “Something’s trying to come through.”

“You mentioned The Three.” Stephen pressed Loki’s head back onto his chest. He channelled a tiny stream of energy through his fingertips to soothe Loki’s headache. “Who are they?”

“The Trinity Guardians of the Fear Dimension.” 

Stephen's kneading fingers stilled against Loki's throbbing temples. _Who?_

“Old, old race. Incorporeal beings if the books were to be believed.”

“Incorporeal?”

“That’s how they’ve managed to survive for so long, I reckon,” Loki mumbled. 

He suppressed a shiver; the last time he had felt this depleted, he was lying in a pool of his own blood on a desolate Svartalfheim wasteland.

The door suddenly swung open, and a gust of wind blew the curls out of Loki’s eyes. 

In strolled Mr. Sunshine on Legs himself, whose ruddy face immediately reddened in embarrassment. 

“Honestly,” Loki groused. “Does no one ever knock anymore?” Just for that, he clung to Stephen a little bit tighter. 

“Sorry, I did not mean to interrupt your, uh, morning yoga,” Thor said, stumbling over his words. "I came to see how you were.”

“I should go,” Stephen said, voice heavy with reluctance. He loathed the idea of leaving Loki alone but at the same time knew he needed to get back to the Sanctum with the new information.

The nosebleed seemed to have stopped but Loki still looked too many shades paler than normal for Stephen's liking. “Will you be alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Loki said easily, for he would not be the one to stand between Stephen and his duties. There was nothing worse than knowing he would always come second, but he could never begrudge the Sorcerer Supreme his calling. 

For shame, Loki, he chastised himself as he basked in the warmth of Stephen’s arms for a while longer, grateful for the momentary comfort. He had not expected to be spared the humiliation of having to explain his dishonesty.

Loki had a feeling that Stephen’s kindness would be the death of him one day. 

“Will you at least tell me where you’re headed if you get another alert?”

“Sure.” Stephen rose from the bed to take his leave, and gave the King of Asgard a gruff nod. “Thor.”

Loki waited for the portal to completely close behind Stephen and he spoke his parting words. “Be careful.”

* * *

“Loki. Nice to see you up and about again.” 

“Bruce,” Loki said courteously. He threw his brother a mildly irritated look. "Thor. You did not tell me we had guests. I would have dressed more appropriately."

Bruce eyed Loki's all-black ensemble. "You're not dressed any differently than how I always see you."

"That's a relief," Loki said dryly. "If this is a wellness check, you could have saved yourself some travel time by calling ahead. As you can see, Thor's pieces are still in one piece."

"Actually, we're here to see you," Steve said. "And to see how you're doing, of course."

"Interesting." Loki took his usual seat in the lone armchair in the farthest corner of the room reserved for Thor's private audiences. "What have I done now?"

Bruce cleared his throat. “I told the others.”

Loki waited.

“About what happened back at the helicarrier. With the prisoner.”

“Oh, that.” Loki laughed blithely, a picture of innocence. “Yes. I would apologise, but that would diminish the whole point of killing him, wouldn’t it?” 

With a wink he made sure only Steve could see, he imparted an adage he had adhered to all his life. “One must strive to live unapologetically, Captain."

“Thanks for the advice, Loki,” Steve said, keeping his tone neutral. "The jury's still out on that one but if you're feeling up to it, maybe you could tell us more of what you saw." 

"In whose head, mine or his?" Loki asked mildly.

Steve waited.

Loki sighed. He would rather spend his energy taunting someone more receptive anyway. 

“What do you wish to know?” he relented.

"Alex mentioned something called The Shrike. What is that?”

“Insentient creatures from another dimension. Blind and cruel, with an insatiable thirst for blood. Like the locusts of ancient Egypt, they devour everything in their path.”

"And these Shrikes, they destroyed their planet?" Steve tried to recall what Loki had said earlier. "Chronyca-2?"

"And millions of others, across thousands of galaxies."

"What are they looking for?"

"I do not know."

"Food? Fuel? To breed?"

"Those who became infected, they became hosts to these parasites. To what end, I do not know."

"There must be more, Loki." Steve was beginning to sound frustrated.

Loki closed his eyes. His temples were beginning to pulsate with the return of the headache; or maybe, it never left. “I can only describe to you what I saw.”

Bruce held out a placating hand. "Wait. Maybe...maybe we're not asking the right questions. Are the Chronicoms leading them here?”

Loki gave him a grateful look. “No. The Chronicoms are hunting them. It is revenge they seek." And a new home, he added silently. 

“Hey, maybe that's what this is,” Bruce said, retrieving an object from his backpack.

“I knew there was a reason why the Director was being all vague about what this thing was and what it was doing in the vault. SHIELD could have come across the Chronicoms and these Shrike things before.”

“You were supposed to hand everything over to SHIELD,” Steve said, wearing his perpetual look of resigned disapproval.

"Guess I've been hanging around you people for too long," Bruce sighed. The device in his hand suddenly started up on its own and began to emit a whine. 

“Uh-oh.” Bruce held the device at arm’s length. 

The whining, keening sound got louder the more Bruce panned it out across the room like a treasure hunter prospecting for gold; by the time it reached Loki, it was practically screaming.

“Why is it doing that?” Steve asked in alarm. 

“Did the Chronicom do something to you yesterday?” Bruce demanded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You’re still...Loki, right?”

“Of course I am!” Loki snapped. 

“You really are quite fetching, Brother. I can see why anyone would be so taken by your face and wish to claim it for their own.” 

Loki rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see them try.”

“So what’s different today?” Bruce looked Loki up and down suspiciously. “Aside from the fact that this is the first time I’ve seen you in a dressing gown?”

Something shifted in Loki’s eyes. 

“Brother?” Thor queried as Loki slipped a hand in his pocket and fumbled around for something.

“Just testing a theory,” Loki said tersely. He retrieved a closed fist, with something obviously concealed inside. 

The whine grew deafeningly louder. 

"What's in your hand, Loki?" Steve demanded. 

"Please don't let it be the Tesseract, please don't let it be the Tesseract - " Bruce had started chanting to himself.

"You fool…" Loki whispered. _If only it was._

He uncurled his fingers, revealing the rough sapphire Stephen had recovered from the barren deserts of Sahara. 

* * *

_Sanctum Sanctorum_

"Convergence of ley lines, huh?” Wong stroked his chin. “I suppose that makes sense, but now is some of the busiest times in the Wiccan calendar, there’s a blood moon coming up, and after that Samhain, the Feast of All Saints, Dia de los Muertos - " 

He winced. Just saying the words out loud left a bad taste in his mouth. "How can we tell which ley lines are active because something’s trying to come through from another dimension, and which ones are active because of the sabbats?”

"Maybe we can narrow it down using the crystals we found?” Stephen suggested. “They were the first physical evidence we found. If we can amplify the residual energy signature and use that as a homing device, we might just catch this Big Bad, or Baddies in action.”

“There’s more than one?” Wong asked dryly. 

“Loki couldn’t be specific about it,” Stephen muttered. “I didn’t want to push him.”

“I suppose that is wise. Disappointing, but wise.” Wong regarded him with unreadable eyes. “I heard about yesterday. Is Loki okay?”

“The spell took a lot out of him, but he’s back to normal, almost.” 

Stephen decided it was time to get the discussion back on track, lest his concern for Loki drive him to distraction. “He did give us something to work with though. What do you know of the Fear Dimension, Wong?"

"Not much. The Ancient One only ever mentioned it once or twice, in the context of how lucky we are that the Earth is so primitive compared to other planets. Makes us not very appetising to eat."

"I bet she used those exact words," Stephen said dryly. 

"So what's our theory here? Food shortage on a cosmic scale and we're next?"

"That is a possibility." Stephen's countenance darkened. "But these rifts in the fabric of the universe are getting bigger each time. If what Loki saw was true, and this came from the Fear Dimension…" 

"Incorporeal." Wong made a face. "That's just a fancy word for ghosts, isn't it. What if they're already here?"

A vessel, Loki had said. An empty one. 

"We have to find the next portal and seal it once and for all. And if one managed to slip past us back at the Sahara, we have to find it and deport its incorporeal ass."

Upon seeing the pained look on Wong's face, Stephen clasped his fellow guardian's shoulder. "It's our line of business, Wong. Border control."

"I know our job isn't exactly glamorous but do you really have to put it like that?"

"Would you rather I rename us the Ghost Hunters?"

"Are you serious?"

Stephen shrugged. "Rebranding is all the rage nowadays. Now stop talking and let me concentrate."

"You stop talking." Wong retorted good-naturedly, but took a few steps back to give Stephen room to work. 

Stephen clasped both hands over the crystals, palming them against his chest like a prayer. He felt his magic begin to coalesce and swirl furiously in his chest. 

Once it reached a crescendo, he allowed his magic to flow unimpeded into his fingers. He pictured the destination as clearly as he could, the acuity of his mind's eye amplified by the crystals.

"Ready, Wong," he breathed. 

"I'm always ready," he heard Wong say. 

His instinct took over and the Sorcerer Supreme breathed the spell to life. 

A portal loomed before them, dark and sinister. 

"What is this place?" Wong asked in wonder.

"You'll see," came Stephen's mysterious answer. "Shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Merida - the most skilled archer princess in Disney history (Brave, 2012)
> 
> 2\. For Odin and communicating through bodies of water, read: Loki: Where Mischief Lies by Mackenzi Lee.
> 
> 3\. One day I will write that MCU-A Discovery of Witches crossover fic I've always dreamed of writing. *sigh*
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos. You guys are awesome. ⚘


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my beta Arabesqueangel for her invaluable input on this chapter. ⚘

_Salem, Massachusetts_

"Oh, come on…" Wong groaned. "The Witch House? Really?"

"You were the one who mentioned witches, Wong." Stephen swept his eyes up and down the dark charcoal walls of the historic structure, studying the gable windows one by one. 

Even in broad daylight, the house that had once belonged to the judge who condemned some twenty or so souls to the gallows some four hundred years ago on the allegations of witchcraft stood empty and eerie.

Something felt amiss, but Stephen's instinct kept telling him that it had nothing to do with this house. 

Wong must have felt the same way, judging by the expression on his face. He may look relieved, but he sounded somewhat disappointed. "I don't feel anything. There's nothing here." 

Stephen studied the gambrel roof where he thought he had caught a glimpse of something. Upon further scrutiny, the blob revealed itself to be the head of a pigeon. 

He watched it take flight and disappear into the horizon. "Nope. No magpies here."

"We should head for the Gallows Hill, it's the most active spot." Wong cleared his throat. "That is, according to my sources."

Stephen snorted. "If your source is a witch, he or she is not a very good one, coz that wasn't where the hangings took place."

"Oh, really?" 

"Yes, really."

"Then do enlighten us, Sorcerer Supreme. Where was the actual hanging site?"

"Yes…" a new voice suddenly joined in the bickering. "Please do."

Wong and Stephen turned around slowly.

A woman they had never seen before stood a few feet away. 

Wong took in her strange clothes, the exotic features and foreign twang; if not for her flame-red bob cut, she could have easily been mistaken for a historical reenactment actor. 

"Who wants to know?" Wong asked warily. 

_A tourist?_

"Are you lost?" he probed further.

A smile spread slowly across her face. 

"Not anymore," she whispered, and charged. 

Wong quickly adopted a defensive stance, but no physical blow came to land. Instead, it came barreling at them like a windstorm of fire, heading straight for the Sorcerer Supreme.

Before he could give a shout of warning, the whirlwind changed its trajectory and gusted through him like thousands of tiny needles. 

"Yes…" 

"Wong?"

The mysterious woman had disappeared but Stephen had a fairly good idea where she went. "Let him go."

"Dimensional energy." 'Wong' raised his hands, pronating and supinating his wrists as if admiring them for the first time. "This. This is exactly what I need."

"Let him go," Stephen demanded, and his Mandala shields bloomed to a threatening size. "I will not ask again." 

Wong's head slowly lifted. When it tilted, the gleeful grin on his face tilted too. "Do you promise?"

Deeply sickened by the grotesque sight of his best friend wearing someone else's smile, Stephen struggled with concealing his revulsion. "Who are you and what do you want?"

Wong did not answer. Instead, he raised his arms to the sky and chanted an unintelligible string of words. 

They were in a language Stephen had never heard before but deep down, he instinctively knew what they meant.

An ominous, splintering sound shattered the sky, and it opened.

"Not on my watch!" 

With a twist of his wrist and a surge of magic, the Sorcerer Supreme realigned the clouds along the crack and sealed the fissure in the sky. 

Wong's features twisted into an ugly, alien snarl, rendering his face unrecognisable. 

In a way, Stephen was grateful for it, for it was easier to fight a stranger than a friend. 

Despite his heavyset frame, Wong had always moved fast, but it was as though Stephen was fighting the wind, never landing a punch no matter how well-aimed. 

He lashed out an arm and a lasso of Eldritch magic wrapped around Wong's wrist. 

Having gained a temporary upper-hand, Stephen began to reel him in, but whoever was inside his friend's body was a fast learner. Channeling dimensional energy the way only a Master of the Master Arts knew how, Wong conjured a blade of fire and slashed the bonds free.

The blade swept a clean arc through the chaotic miasma of magic where Stephen's neck had been a millisecond ago. 

Stumbling back a few steps, he ground out through gritted teeth, "What are you?" 

"Your worst nightmare." 

Notwithstanding the seriousness of the situation, Stephen gave in to temptation and rolled his eyes. 

"If I had a dollar for everytime someone said that to me," he sighed. "Demons like you are ten a penny these days."

"You're an arrogant little thing, aren't you?" Something shifted in Wong's eyes, as ancient as the nuance in his voice. "I am as old as the galaxy itself. There is no one like me." 

"Respect your elders, yes, yes," Stephen muttered. "Technically, I am dating one, so I kinda know what I'm talking about." 

He smirked. "You may be old, but I bet you can still die."

"Oh, sure." Wong rolled his shoulders back and forth, up and down. "Rickety old thing, this meat suit."

Stephen was cognizant of the fragility of the human body; with Wong still inside, he knew he needed to get close, if there was to be any chance of saving his friend.

He had seen Wong in action a hundred times before, and been his sparring partner a hundred times more, yet nothing prepared him for what happened next. 

Wong lunged and Stephen raised his shield in defense but it was all for naught, such was the cost of temporary distraction. 

There was a glint of red before something sharp suddenly pierced his arm and skewered it the whole way through. 

Stephen opened his eyes to see a shard of crystal mere inches away from his face, its tip glistening with his own blood. 

With a sadistic grin, the thing inside Wong began to pull on the crystal sword deliberately slowly, delighting in the grating sound as the shards sheared through flesh and bone.

Stephen bit his tongue to keep from crying out; the exquisite pain was reminiscent of the agony he had once gone through after the tragic car accident that had fractured every bone in his hands and altered his life forever.

The metallic taste filling his mouth sharpened his acumen the way only blood could, and when the serrations caught in the fibrous tissue between the two bones in his forearm, he centered himself around the pain and tugged hard.

Caught off-balance, Wong lurched forward, just as Stephen had intended all along. 

In a move reminiscent of the very first The Ancient One ever taught him, Stephen grabbed Wong's wrist, twisted his arm till it popped, and landed a solid punch to the middle of Wong's chest.

A spectral figure catapulted out of Wong's body, its gaping maw against the suddenly sanguine sky a mimicry of the Scream, silent and full of rage. 

Funny how he could think of one of Loki's favourite paintings at a time like this, but the pain was obliterating all coherent thoughts -

_Demon. Witch._

_Wong._

_Wong!_

Cast out of its vessel, the entity sought to seize control again but Stephen was not about to let it get the better of them a second time.

"Hold on to me, Wong," he grunted, and teleported. 

* * *

_Sanctum Sanctorum_

"I need to speak to Stephen." 

Loki stormed across the floor of the Atrium, with Thor following closely behind. "Where is he?"

"Not now, Loki," Wong growled, stalking past him with a basin filled with steaming hot water and clean towels slung over both shoulders.

"What's going on? Has something happened?" Loki snapped. Then his nose caught the whiff of something unsettling in the air. "Whose blood is that?"

His heart began to pound.

"Wong, if you don't tell me where he is, I swear I will rip your - "

"Oh shut up and just come with me," Wong said, sounding more irritable than usual, but there was a brightness in his eyes that had not been there before, as though Loki's mere presence was a cause for relief. 

"I'm in here, Loki." A tired voice called out.

Loki marched into the kitchen where a makeshift dressing trolley had been set up. Rolls of gauze, suture kits and surgical tape lay in disarray, some still unopened, most bloodied.

"Is this a good time? It doesn't look like it's a good time," Thor said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "I should probably go."

Loki whipped his head around. Don't leave me, his eyes pleaded silently.

"I will meet you back at the house, Loki." Thor said. "You might want to get that looked at, Doctor."

"What exactly do you think is happening here?" Wong grumbled to himself. 

Loki followed his brother's retreating back with longing eyes, before finally turning around to face the people he had come to see but now wished he hadn't.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, his gaze alternated between the garish stab wound on his lover's arm and Wong's expectant expression. 

Inexplicably, he could not bring himself to look directly at Stephen. 

"Can we help you with something?" Wong finally asked, hiding his irritation behind a veil of effusive politeness.

"It can wait," Loki said haltingly. "I'll...wait in the sitting room." 

"You do that," Wong said, before swiftly turning his attention to his patient. He scrutinised the gaping wound in Stephen's arm. 

"You sure you wouldn't rather go to a hospital?" he asked in a low voice.

"The bleeding's mostly stopped. You - " Stephen caught himself, "It didn't hit any major blood vessel."

"I am sorry."

Stephen shook his head. "It wasn't you."

Wong wordlessly scoured the wound of dirt and all manner of inorganic debris, his aura morose and disturbed.

"Wong, honestly. It's okay." Stephen said placatingly. "I knew where to place myself to avoid the worst of it."

Wong looked up from his task at the heavy sigh; he followed the line of the Sorcerer Supreme's forlorn gaze.

It landed on the spot where Loki had stood at the door not a minute ago.

"Awfully nice of him to come," Wong murmured. "Do you think he brought flowers?"

"Wong…" Stephen warned, shaking his head in a silent plea. _Don't say a word._

Wong picked up a needle holder and began suturing, fighting down yet another wave of anger. 

No, it was not Loki he was angry with. 

"I shouldn't have left myself open like that," Wong mumbled. "I should have shielded my mind." 

Stephen winced; even with a numbing spell in place, he could still feel every pull of the needle. He wished he could be asleep for this, but had resigned to the fact that any resting for the foreseeable future was a far-fetched idea. 

"There's time for that later. At least we now have a clearer idea of what we're up against."

"We do?" Wong's sardonic remark was familiar by virtue of its drollness, but it hinted at an underlying sadness that Stephen thought the question was best left unanswered. 

It was a silence both of them needed, one that was meant to be restorative, contemplative even. 

All it was was deafening. 

Wong continued suturing. 

* * *

Wong found Loki exactly where he said he was going to be. Sitting alone in a darkened room, his countenance pale and still like that of a statue, Loki reminded him of a weeping angel in a cemetery. 

What the God of Mischief had come to talk about must be important for him to not have left already.

"He's all patched up so you can go home now."

Loki did not look up. He was holding something in the palm of his hand. 

For some reason, whatever it was Loki was holding, it was calling out to Wong like a lamb to the slaughter. Against his better judgement, he walked over to get a closer look at the mysterious object.

“What is the matter, Master Wong? You look like you have seen a ghost.” Loki's tone was casual, but the undercurrent of animosity was unmistakable.

"Where did you get that?"

Loki stood slowly. At his full height, he towered over Wong but the terror in the Guardian's eyes was not directed at him. 

Such curious fact must therefore be explored. "You tell me." 

"That came from the Fear Dimension."

Loki regarded Wong suspiciously. "As I have told your Sorcerer Supreme, yes." 

"No, you don't understand." Wong raised a shaky hand to his temple. “I thought I saw…”

Alarmed, Loki resisted the urge to shake the man like a ragdoll. "What did you see? Who did you see?"

"I..." Wong lowered his hand and stared at it as it shook. He remembered how steady it had been, when it was tasked to stab his own friend in the heart with a -

He drew a blank. What weapon had he used?

With his other hand, he began fumbling with the pouch around his waist, from which he produced a piece of crystal, a remnant of the shards he had painstakingly removed from Stephen's wound. 

“This came out of me. Stephen was - " Wong's voice caught in his throat. "She made me hurt him."

In the late morning sun, it was the same shade of coral as the gemstone in Loki’s possession. 

Wong could feel the pieces resonate, he could hear them call out for each other. “It's part of her.”

“Who?” The solemn lines on Loki’s face instantly deepened and turned predatory. “Give me a name, Wong.”

Wong could not recall much. He only remembered the disjointed feeling of having his limbs operating under someone else’s machinations, the crunching sound of glass hitting bone, the smell of Stephen’s blood on his clothes - what else would anybody remember from being possessed? 

“Izel.” 

For he was a Master of the Mystic Arts. He was not just anybody. 

“Her name is Izel.”

* * *

“Does it hurt very much?”

“Nothing I’ve never felt before,” Stephen mumbled. “It’s not like my hands aren’t damaged already.”

He fussed with the sleeve of his dressing robe, trying his best but failing nonetheless to cover the heavy bandages around his forearm. 

“Besides, who needs hands, right?” he asked brightly. “Master Hamir’s one of our finest and he's only got just the one.”

"If you knew, you would understand." Loki's voice had dropped to a pained whisper. "You would do the same."

"No, Loki, I would not."

Loki only looked at him unhappily.

“I swore an oath,” Stephen said flatly. “A sacred oath, to treat those in need to the best of my ability. Friend or foe.”

“Then you are a better man than I.”

“And therein lies the caveat. You are no man.”

Loki swallowed hard. Stephen sounded like a stranger; never had his words cut so deeply, his smile as bitter. 

“You are displeased with me.”

Stephen’s shoulders visibly deflated as he slumped lower in his chair. "No, Loki. I am really not. I will not invalidate your autonomy by presuming to tell you what to do with your gift.” 

“Gift?” Loki echoed.

“Yes. The ability to heal is a gift.” 

So there was to be no tip-toeing around the elephant in the room. That was their promise to each other, after all. 

_A gift._

Their gazes searched for one another for a fleeting second, before Stephen shied away at the last minute. “Not a burden.”

Loki stared at Stephen’s haggard profile. 

If Stephen only knew the full weight of his conjecture, perhaps he would have chosen his wording differently. 

“I suppose it is a gift, yes. Use it wisely, Mother once said.”

“Sage advice.”

Loki felt the inexplicable need to say more. “Not indiscriminately.”

“Loki, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. There is no oath for you to uphold here."

Despite his words, Stephen had not looked at Loki, not once. “But I'm afraid I am not fit to entertain, so I will have to spare you the burden of my company."

Loki did not know if he should feel relieved or disappointed, but what he had not expected to feel was desperation. 

Desperation to apologise for having done nothing when social convention called for an act of benevolence, desperation to prove to Stephen that he too was capable of basic human kindness. 

Yet nothing was as strong as the desperation to grip Stephen’s face between his hands and force those eyes to look upon him once more with tenderness and longing, rather than hurt and disappointment. 

“Ask anything of me, Doctor.” _Just not this._

When Stephen did not answer, Loki knew the moment was as good as lost, forever irretrievable. 

What was one more person disappointed in him in the grand scheme of things? But somehow with the person being Stephen, the pain was made a thousand times worse because he had not expected it at all.

For someone who thrived on silence, Loki could not bear another second of it. "You knew what I was."

"I did," Stephen agreed readily. "And perhaps therein lies the problem."

He knew what Loki was, and fell in love anyway.

“I should go.” Loki's heart wanted nothing more but to stay, but as it always did in the end, his pride won out. “I will leave you alone.”

Stephen gave a curt nod. Maybe Loki only loved him when they were alone. “That is best.”

The door closed behind Loki with a soft click. It was the single, most thunderous sound Stephen had ever heard. 

_Or maybe you never did._

* * *

_New Asgard_

Loki had no sooner thrown himself onto his bed than a large shadow loomed over him. 

“Brother?”

Fantastic. He should have known asking the universe to leave him alone for one day was a tall order. “What?” 

“That was quick.” Thor’s attempt at striking a conversation fell flat when all he received for his effort was a dull stare.

“Your point being?”

Thor did not like the void behind Loki's glassy eyes. He must, therefore, make another attempt at drawing his reticent brother into dialogue. It was when Loki was at his quietest had he the most to get off his chest. 

“Is everything alright?”

Loki dragged himself out of bed and toward the drink trolley where he busied himself for the next few seconds with pouring himself a drink and not offering his brother one. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Well…you’re here.” 

“As opposed to?” Loki dared Thor to say what he really meant with a scathing glare. 

Thor did not rise to the bait. Instead, he merely cleared his throat calmly, which seemed to infuriate Loki even more. “Stephen’s injuries looked quite grievous.”

“He has survived worse,” Loki said curtly, his eyes vacant not a few seconds ago, now stormy. “I was assured as such.”

“And you believed him?” Thor asked.

“I chose to, yes,” Loki snapped, slamming the glass decanter down harder than he should, and the glass tray shattered into a million pieces with a resounding crack. 

A dismissive wave of the hand later, the shards flew off the trolley and onto the floor. Loki nonchalantly continued pouring until his goblet overflowed with wine. 

It was a red flag in itself, for Loki very rarely drank when not entertaining, and certainly never that much. 

“Was I wrong to?” 

Despite his hesitation, Thor persevered in his endeavor to help Loki see sense. “I cannot presume to know the right and the wrong of anything when it comes to your relationship with the good doctor. But I know you, and you look troubled.”

“Troubled,” Loki huffed. “That is the understatement of the century. I might as well carve out my heart and put it on display for all to see."

"I'm sure Stephen understands," Thor said awkwardly.

"Spare me your vapid reassurances, Thor," Loki lashed out. "You are speaking from a highly privileged place."

The silence that ensued was akin to a hush before a storm.

"Yes, I suppose my being alive and talking to you right now is a side-effect of your tender affection for me," Thor said easily, his sunny countenance belied by the sombreness in his eyes. "As grateful as I am for all you have done, I would have you be content with the choices you make, Loki."

"What is it to you how I feel about my choices?" 

Hearing the heartache in the cracking of his brother’s voice, Thor’s own heart sank. 

Just once Thor would like to see Loki unafraid. He would have his little brother be certain of his place in this new, old world, and not haunted by the poison of the past. 

“What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing,” Loki said quickly. 

"Did you two have an argument?" Thor pressed.

Loki said nothing. He shoved the balcony doors wide open and marched outside, gulping in air like a fish out of water.

"No one holds it against you, Loki. Not after seeing the toll it took on you," Thor said, once his brother had calmed considerably.

"I wanted to." Loki closed his eyes but it did nothing to erase the memory of Stephen's face, the hurt in his eyes. "By God I wanted to."

"So why didn't you?" Thor probed, for Loki had always done what he wanted to do. He wondered what could be different this time. "Is it because of the pain?"

"I fear neither pain nor death," Loki said softly. "I have felt the worst of both."

Then it finally occurred to Thor, the reason why Loki could never be at peace. 

"You do not fear pain or death…" He stared at the stiff curvature of Loki’s back. "As long as it is yours."

A tired sigh. “The things you say sometimes, Thor.”

"I have seen what you can do, what it costs you." 

Thor’s voice hardened. "But he has given you five years of his life, Loki. And I know my brother is not so cruel as to string a mortal along for five long years for mere entertainment." 

His tone softened. "It was not selfishness that stopped you. It was something else. What was it?”

The glass stopped its mindless swirling. 

What could Loki say? Thor would never understand. Everyone had always loved him.

"You've always had such faith in me."

"Was I wrong to?" Thor asked. 

Stephen must have had similar faith in him too, and now had been left wanting.

"What if I couldn't heal him?" Loki asked, heart and mind a thousand miles away. "What if I tried and I couldn't. What then?"

"You are yet unwell, Brother," Thor reminded him, as if Loki himself was not aware of the waxing and waning of his own magic. "He is a medicine man, is he not? Surely he, of all people, would understand that."

But Loki was hardly listening. Groaning softly, he pressed the ice-cold glass against his forehead.

"It can't all be a lie…" he whispered. "Am I too deprived that I am only imagining being in - " _love?_

His brother's thought process was difficult enough to follow on a good day, but Thor always got there in the end.

"You are afraid of your own feelings."

Loki scoffed at the assertion. "Oh, please."

“You have always felt too deeply, Brother,” Thor said gently. “It is both a gift and a curse.”

The turbulent expression on Loki's face waned. A strange calmness settled over him, like the sensation of being too close to the edge of a precipice and still wanting to look down.

“Which one is he?”

"Is that a trick question?” Thor asked warily. “Loki, I have seen the way you look at each other. I do not know what to call it other than love."

"That is hardly surprising. You do have quite a limited vocabulary."

"Enlighten me then."

"Mutual respect. Guarded tolerance."

Thor snorted. “Is that what you youngsters are calling it nowadays? ‘Guarded tolerance’?”

"Reciprocal altruism, then. Surely you've heard that peculiar Midgardian saying - I scratch his back, he scratches mine.”

Thor laughed out loud. "Yes...again, I do not think the Midgardians mean it in the literal sense.”

“They don't?” Loki asked innocently, but his smirk gave him away. "At least I don't call it 'yoga'."

"If it had been anything more vigorous, Brother, I would have said 'calisthenics'."

Never had Loki's eyebrows looked so impressed. It was a sight so comical that Thor could not help but burst out in laughter.

Soon Loki found himself chuckling too, even if his laughter was much, much bitter in comparison.

They sat in a companionable silence that was only broken after the sun disappeared and the moon took its place. 

“Would it really be so bad if he knew?” Thor wondered aloud. “That you love him?”

“He is all I see, Thor." 

The gentle breeze blowing in from the sea carried Loki's confession deep into the night. 

“And it is blinding me. That cannot be love."

"That's what you used to say about me," Thor said quietly. 

"So it is," Loki said in wondrous awe. "I take my leave of a place in the shadows for another one just like it."

"You may think I am blind to your suffering, Brother. I am not," Thor said, shaking his head. "It hurts me to think that I am the cause of it. I would gladly forfeit my life if only to spare you the pain."

"Don't you dare, Thor," Loki said fiercely. "Don't even - I will kill you myself."

"And there it is," Thor said proudly.

Before Loki could protest, he reached out to cup the back of his brother’s neck. **"** Now if that is not love, I don't know what is."

“Shut up.”

"Would you like to know something else? This may or may not upset you, but I think it is something you need to hear."

"With a disclaimer like that, how can I not?" Loki snorted. "Out with it, Thor."

"Back there on that ship, I knew I was dying. I was dying and I knew the only person who could help me was you."

Thor took in a deep breath. "But even if you couldn't and I died anyway, I would have died in content. Because you came. And you tried." 

His little brother had always been fond of riddles; Thor could only hope that his was transparent enough. "It's the trying that matters."

Loki's eyes instantly filled. "Sentiment."

Very carefully, Thor reached out again to tease his brother’s collar. He thumbed the bruises on Loki's throat, the ones Loki had been trying so hard to hide underneath his turtleneck sweater.

The finger marks were larger, much larger than his own. 

Finally Death has left her Mark on me, Loki had jokingly said once.

The memories came rushing back, and Thor almost choked. He remembered how the fingers felt against his own head, the excruciating agony. 

"You would talk to me of sentiment when this is the price you paid for saving my life?" he whispered, voice gruff with emotions he could no longer suppress. 

Loki prised Thor's fingers off his neck gently.

“It is only temporary, Brother. Do not worry overmuch about it."

“Loki…” 

“I cannot seem to cast any illusion for the time being, but that appears to be the worst of it.”

He gave the side of Thor’s bulging biceps an awkward pat. "My magic will return soon enough.”

"Does it hurt?"

 _Every single day_.

"No," Loki lied. "It is only a scar."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I headcanon Loki has many favourite paintings, one of which is Edvard Munch's The Scream. 😱


	5. Chapter 5

_Sanctum Sanctorum_

"She was talking to someone. I couldn't understand the words that were coming out of my mouth, but I could sense her pleas." 

Wong closed his eyes but it was all coming up a huge blank. "The invocation felt like a prayer...an entreaty of sorts."

"Yeah...I felt that too."

A vision of Loki flashed through Stephen's mind, as pale as moonlight, blood smeared over the lower half of his perfect face.

 _The Three_. 

"She must have been trying to get through to the Three Guardians," Stephen realised. "She was channeling the dimensional energy through you, but I stopped her before she could create a gateway into the Fear Dimension."

"So all these mysterious portals popping up everywhere, you're saying they were her unsuccessful attempts?"

"Must be," Stephen mulled. "It is magic of the highest order. Kaecilius couldn't summon the Dark Dimension on his own." 

Wong offered a silent prayer for his predecessor, the Librarian. The chains that used to hold the Book of Cagliostro had been permanently retired in memory of him. To make matters worse, they still had not found the wretched book. 

"Was that why she tried to kill you, I wonder? For blood sacrifice?" 

Stephen gave an equivocal wobble of the head that was neither a shake nor a nod. Something was not adding up.

"If there was anyone who could open an interdimensional portal bare-handed, it was me. Why did she go after you?"

"Because I'm the good-looking one?" Wong asked. 

"That must be it," Stephen chuckled. 

The humor was returning to Wong, slowly but surely. It was doing wonders for Stephen's own mood; the Sanctum was a gloomy enough place without all the gloom and doom.

Wong picked up the teapot to refill Stephen's almost-empty cup, and the soothing scent of chamomile filled the kitchen. "I've been thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself." Stephen smiled his thanks, but his playful taunting was only met with typical Wong-esque seriousness.

"When you first came to us, how did the Ancient One convince you that we were the real thing and not a bunch of nutjobs with crystal balls peddling knowledge of the future?"

"I...never thought that about you." At Wong's deadpan stare, Stephen relented. "Yeah, okay, maybe at first. Why do you ask?"

"Just - humor me."

"She gave me tea laced with acid," Stephen mumbled through a mouthful of tea, but paid for his insolence when he accidentally bit his tongue. _"Ow."_

"She did what?"

Stephen ran the tender tip of his tongue along his lips, tasting blood. One should not speak ill of the dead, especially when the dead person in question happened to be one of the most powerful Sorcerers when she was alive. "She lifted the veil over my third eye."

A nostalgic look suddenly fell over Wong's face. "The sixth chakra. That's what I thought."

What's your point?"

"She tapped into your subconscious to release you from the bindings of your own making, and in turn, awakened your divine intuition to a whole new reality beyond space and time."

"Yee-ah...the subconscious is a powerful tool," Stephen said haltingly.

He had a suspicion where this conversation was going, but he had to be sure. "Where is this going?"

"I need you to do what she did. I need you to tap into my mind chakra and see if Izel's left anything behind when she was wearing my body. Anything useful."

"You mean…"

"Unlock it."

"Wong, you don't know what you're asking me."

"I do. And I know it's going to suck. But I want to find Izel more. I don't doubt that we will, but when we do, we need to know how to defeat her." 

Wong drew a determined breath. "How do we do this?"

A few minutes later, they were sitting cross-legged on the floor and facing each other.

Wong may have strong-armed Stephen into agreeing to perform the most intricate surgery of the mind, figuratively speaking, but the Sorcerer Supreme's body language was still screaming heavy reluctance.

Deep down Wong knew they needed to do this. The brief conversation with Loki had only given them a name, and Wong was not going to let the God of Chaos anywhere near his noggin.

"Stephen, it's alright," Wong said quietly. "I trust you."

Suddenly Stephen's heart felt ten times lighter, freed from a burden he did not realise he had been carrying. 

Come what may, he was going to face it, and there was no other man he trusted more to watch his back than Wong. 

"Thanks, Wong." 

Wong nodded once and took as deep a breath as he could. He closed his eyes. "Let's do this."

* * *

"It's alright if you want to sit this one out, Brother. The others would understand, surely they have contingencies in place for whenever one of us is indisposed - "

"Please don't talk, Thor."

Thor merely gave an absent nod, already pondering his next move. He had not had much success in lifting his brother's spirits since their conversation the day before, but he was not about to give up. 

He hoped the emergency meeting they had been called to had some substance to it; the best conversations Thor remembered having with his brother had all been in the heat of battle, no holds barred. 

"The Midgardians have this saying, that happiness comes in the company of good friends! Who knows, this may be exactly what you need,” Thor said, suffusing as much cheer and enthusiasm into his voice as he could. 

“Yes...exactly what I need,” Loki said viciously as his footsteps ground to a halt at the door of the Avengers’ War Room. 

“Director Fury.” Thor deflated instantly at the sight of the very familiar figure sitting at the head of the table. The rest of the Avengers were dispersed around the table, their demeanours ranging from utterly bored to indifferent. 

“Your Highnesses!” When Nick Fury smiled with that many teeth, something must be up. “Glad you could join us. Have a seat.”

Thor obliged, sitting down in the chair closest to the door, also the farthest from their unexpected visitor.

Fury and Loki's staring contest only ended when Loki finally took the seat next to his brother, whose proximity he had the least problem tolerating. 

"A little bird told me of some trouble you two had recently."

"Uhm, see, I may have accidentally electrocuted the chips in the security passes you gave us so, yeah, they no longer work." Thor beckoned his index finger back and forth between himself and his brother, who was suddenly enamoured with his own reflection in his nails. "We're going to need new ones, the both of us." 

Tony hid a snicker behind his Iron Man coffee mug. 

"I don't mean that kind of trouble, and you know it," Fury growled. "I need to know if you're both in good enough shape to do this.”

“And what is ‘this’? If it is to house-sit your cat, then as you say on this planet, I am your man. But if all you need is someone to storm a few bunkers and eliminate a Chronicom or two, Thor is more than capable,” Loki said, as if volunteering his brother to face the possible threat of dying in battle was the normal thing to do. 

Judging by the neutral expression on Thor’s face, it probably was. 

Judging by the murderous expression on Fury’s face, Loki was never coming within a foot of Goose for as long as Goose may live, however long Flerkens lived. 

“Are you sure we need these two?” He asked bluntly, directing his question to Steve Rogers.

“It will definitely help, sure,” Steve said. “If you’re hoping for a Blitzkrieg victory, that is.”

“Yeah, not all of us were alive back in World War II, Cap,” Tony reminded. 

“Lightning attacks, Stark. You go in fast, and strike hard, no punches pulled.”

“We’ve got our God of Lightning sitting right there,” Tony tipped his chin. He swivelled in his chair. “So, Nick. Which precious SHIELD facility are you sending us to retake this time?”

“All of them.”

“What?” Clint Barton’s jaw dropped. 

“The Triskelion has been compromised. The Hub too.”

Bruce dropped into a chair, and his glasses slid down the front of his alarmed face. “How did that happen?”

"There was a massive breach in our cyber security. Essentially, we have been locked out of our own system and whatever we could salvage, we've taken offline. All our remaining operatives have gone off-grid, except for you guys."

Loki gave Thor a grave look: I told you so, it said. 

The flicker of hesitation on the Director's face was fleeting, but it did not escape Steve’s sharp eyes nor his superhuman sixth sense. "What are you not telling us?"

"Area 51 is still standing and that's where you have to go. It cannot fall."

"What’s in Area 51?" Tony asked.

"That's classified." 

"Does it have anything to do with this?" Bruce brandished the device he might as well claim for his own. The Asgardians would have destroyed it for its incessant whining had it not been for the fortuitous discovery of an electrical curiosity: it could be silenced if Thor was the one holding the crystal, as though his elemental energy was cancelling out whatever signal the stone emitted.

At the sight of the object, Fury’s posture stiffened. 

“Nick, just tell us,” Tony said with a softness that hinted at something more sinister. “No more of this classified bullshit.”

"Yes, Director, tell us,” Loki said, mirroring Tony’s muted anger down to a tee. “Tell us about Izel."

"How do you know that name? That's classified inf - ” At the identical looks of outrage on Tony and Loki’s faces, Fury deflated.

"We took care of her, she and her Shrike pests. That threat to our world was disposed of years ago." 

"Oh really? By way of what, a giant sticky tape in the sky?"

"Something like that. My people are very adept at taping things up." The resounding ‘P’ at the end and the glare Fury cast at the vicinity of Loki's mouth left no one to wonder what the Director must be fantasising of doing.

"Well, they must have not been very good because something's been trying to claw its way back inside for weeks now, according to my sources." 

"Watch it, assface. You're talking about some of my finest agents. One of them is worth a hundred of you."

Loki surged in his seat, switching from apathetic to gleeful in a heartbeat. "My, my, Director. Why so personal? Please tell me I've hit a nerve."

"Can somebody explain to the rest of the class just what is going on? Who is this Izel chick?" Clint demanded. 

Anybody that could get Loki that excited, he wanted to know who it was. "Is she a Chronicom too?"

Loki had not taken his eyes off Fury. "No, she's not."

"Another old friend of yours, then?" Clint asked sweetly.

Steve shook his head. "Barton."

"Come on, Cap, surely we don't want any more surprises like the one he sprang on us the last time."

Thor suddenly leaned forward, crossing his impressive arms on the table. "Watch how you speak about my brother, Friend Clint. The Chronicoms showing up had nothing to do with Loki. If anything, you owe your life to him."

"Yeah? Did you ask your brother what he took off the one we captured, the one whose heart he ripped out of its chest?” Clint’s eyes shifted to Thor’s left. “Told you I'd be watching your every move." 

Loki tsk-tsked. "So sentimental, Hawk. Did you miss having my hands on you that much?"

Clint's face reddened.

"Oh, boy." Tony cracked open a can of energy drink. " 's gonna be good."

Natasha flicked Tony on the back of his ear. "Why are you encouraging him?"

"Doctor Banner," Loki called suddenly. "You examined me on the day I almost died saving my brother. Did you find anything suspicious on my person to support Agent Barton's wild accusations?"

"No," the physicist answered cautiously. "But that is hardly - "

 _"Excellent."_ Thor banged his fist on the table, his icy blue eye locked on Clint. "You lack evidence. Therefore, you owe my brother an apology."

"It's alright, Thor," Loki said, shaking his head in a spectacle of exaggerated magnanimity. "It is not important."

"Are you guys done bickering like children?" Steve said heatedly. "Can we concentrate on what is important now?"

"Everybody listen to Cap," Tony said. "Seriously guys, come on. Nick, you were telling us about Izel. Please, continue."

"I was, wasn't I?" Fury’s eyebrows gave a sarcastic twitch. "If you're done interrupting, Agent Barton?"

Clint dropped back into his seat with a huff.

"Thank you," Fury said caustically. "Now. Izel, for those of you who don't know your Mayan gods from your Disney princesses, was a conqueror of worlds who trawled the galaxies for a suitable home and hosts for her creatures, the Shrike."

"The mindless creatures you saw in Alex's head," Steve realised, meeting Loki's suddenly haunted gaze. "Seems pretty silly to conquer planet after planet, only to turn the people into zombies."

"That was not her endgame," Fury asked darkly. "The Shrikes only ready the bodies, hollowing them out and rendering them...habitable for the true hosts." A pause. "For when they finally cross over."

Tony's mouth felt suddenly dry. "From where? Who?"

Fury shrugged. "Dunno. Izel managed as far as opening a portal to someplace she called the Fear Dimension the last time she came to visit, but my people shut it down before anything could cross over."

"And Izel?"

"Deceased." 

Loki scoffed. "Oh, she very much isn't." 

"I'm sorry, did you see her with your own eyes?" Fury asked. "Agent Melinda May nearly lost her life in the battle but she prevailed. And if Melinda May says Izel is deceased, then she is _deceased_." 

To add insult to injury, Fury leaned forward in his seat in a perfect mimicry of Thor's body language.

"You lack evidence. Therefore, all you have is hearsay," he goaded.

Thor bristled, but Tony cut him to the chase. "Why is this the first time I'm hearing of this?"

"You don't have the clearance," Fury said, pointedly sneering at everyone but Loki. "Unlike some of us here, you didn't think far enough ahead to align yourself with people who could potentially give you the inside scoop."

The ever-astute Captain America picked up on the sly innuendo, and fixed upon the Director of SHIELD a reproachful look, quite possibly the only man alive who could - 

"What is the Sorcerer Supreme doing?"

"He and his people are trying to prevent another alien invasion, the kind that we can't just bomb out of the sky. Now it may or may not be a related problem, but for the time being the wizards have got their hands full."

Loki cleared his throat. "First of all, I am not a peasant that I would stoop myself to such a level begging for scraps of information, so do expect a formal complaint from me once this is over." 

"Secondly, the Chronicoms and Izel appearing at the same time, it cannot simply be a coincidence.” Loki insisted, “It is related, I am telling you."

"And I am telling you, it is none of our damn business," Fury countered. "SHIELD and the Masters of the Magic Arts have operated independently for eons. We don't make it a habit to interfere in each other's affairs unless an intervention is requested."

 _Mystic!_ Loki had to bite his tongue to keep from correcting Fury's Freudian slip, whose infuriating smile could only mean that it was a deliberate act. 

"Your Sorcerer Supreme's got me on his speed dial. If he needs our help, all he needs to do is pick up the phone."

Loki gritted his teeth. "He cannot defeat Izel and the Shrikes alone."

"If you must know, my sources told me the wizards have put the Sanctums into lockdown till they get their shit together, so I don't really see what you're getting at, or what you think you can make me do."

"You don't need all of us to defend Area 51."

"Are you officially offering to be my liaison officer, Your Highness?" 

Loki looked instantly uncomfortable.

"I take that as a no. Now I know how much you magical boys like to stick together, but we're fighting our own fight here. So I'm gonna ask you very nicely, to stick to the mission and stop wasting any more of my time."

* * *

"Wong." A vigorous hand shook his shoulder and he felt himself floating slowly to the top, the sounds coming back before the sights - "Wong, wake up."

"I'm up, I'm up," he mumbled. When the whiteout receded and bled into polarising spectrums of colours, he focused on the brightest and the closest.

"How do you feel?"

Stephen's eyes were the most unusual shade of seaglass this up close. They were most disconcerting, like they could suck all the secrets out of you if you stared long enough.

"Fine, fine." Wong pushed and pulled at Stephen's good arm at the same time. He somehow ended up sitting half-slumped against one of the great pillars abutting the grand staircase of the Sanctum. "You were very gentle, I hardly felt it."

"Well I am - was - a neurosurgeon. The brain's a very delicate thing, you don't want to mess around too much."

"Guess I'll have to take your word for it."

When the world stopped spinning, Wong pulled himself to a stand. "Did you get anything?" 

"I got something." 

Suddenly they were in the library, and Stephen was already leafing through a dusty old book, its crumbling yellow pages escaping its fragile binding. 

Wong could only make out a few letters embossed on the cover, but enough to recognise the language."I didn't know you spoke Yucatec Maya."

"I didn't until five minutes ago." Stephen stopped and looked up sharply. "I picked that up from you."

"But I don't…" Wong's voice trailed. "Izel."

"And she was looking…" Stephen flipped the book, "For this."

"Di'Allas," Wong read, his eyes widening in amazement. 

"Yes." Stephen looked just as impressed as Wong felt with himself. "This was what she was after."

"What is it?"

"A conglomeration of three monoliths, said to have originated from another dimension millions of years ago. Legend has it, whoever wields the Di'Allas has the power to control space, time and creation."

"That sounds like the Infinity Stones all over again!" Wong groaned aloud. "Are we heading for another intergalactic war? I've still got chronic back pain from that time with Than -"

"We don't say that name around here, Wong," Stephen said automatically. 

Wong caught the sudden clouding of his best friend's face. "Right. Sorry." 

He wished he could lift Stephen's spirits, yet he knew he was a poor substitute for the person Stephen really wanted to see. 

But one thing he was pretty good at was distraction. 

"So what's our next move, Boss?" Wong pressed. "Find the Di'Allas before Izel?"

"Word of mouth is, the monoliths were found and subsequently destroyed in an altercation that took place at the Temple of the Forgotten in Mexico some years ago, between SHIELD agents and an alien race called the Chronicoms." 

"And you know this how?"

"I hear things on the vine," Stephen said vaguely. "Something tells me finding Di'Allas is key to all of this."

"I thought you said they were destroyed."

"That's the official story, yes," Stephen drawled.

"So what do we do? Call up Fury and ask him for the monoliths that SHIELD may or may not have destroyed?"

"If we're only using them as bait, we don't need to."

"We don't?"

"I have a piece of the Time Monolith. Naturally." 

"Naturally," Wong echoed. 

"Yes, for the Relic Room. It's looking a bit sparse, don't you think?" 

At the bewildered look on Wong's face, Stephen had to laugh. "I'm just kidding. Director Fury gave it to me for safekeeping, 'just in case'."

He abruptly stopped mid air-quotes as his flexor tendons reminded him none too gently that they had been torn up until very recently.

Wong caught Stephen's grimace of pain. "You alright?"

"Nothing I can't handle." Out of nowhere, Stephen produced a handful of crystals again. "Ready for another go?"

* * *

"Shouldn't our priority right now be finding the Zephyr and rooting these androids out?"

"You heard the Director, Banner." 

"Yeah, but I'm not comfortable guarding a secret when I'm not in on the secret," Bruce complained. 

"Fury must have his reasons."

"You don't sound very convinced yourself, Cap," Tony commented. "For all you know Area 51's overrun with these aliens already. I don't mind flexing my muscles a little bit." 

"How do you suggest we do that?" Bruce asked. "They can look like anyone."

"This is not right," Loki muttered.

Thor hummed in half-hearted acknowledgement.

Loki unbuckled his seatbelt and started pacing up and down the Quinjet. "This is wrong. We shouldn't be here."

Then his eyes caught something flying past the front windscreen, too fast for human eyes to see.

_One._

Then another shadow shot across the screen. And another.

Loki dropped back into the vacant seat next to his brother.

"Stephen needs you, Thor," he implored. 'Please, do this for me."

Thor could not remember the last time Loki begged so earnestly for anything. "Loki, do you see something the rest of us don't?"

Loki wanted to stab Thor for the alarm in his eyes and the pity in his voice.

"Are you stupid? I am not Mother!" he said incredulously.

"Must be a soulmate thing then," Tony said with a small sigh. "It's quite a romantic thing actually, you can sort of sense when your SO is in trouble." An awkward pause. "Or you know, menstruating. She just starts throwing random things at you."

The concerned look on Thor's face changed into one of uncertainty. "Loki, are you…"

"Ask me if I'm menstruating and I will stab your last remaining eyeball all the way out the back of your skull."

"I was just asking," Thor grumbled. 

Loki sighed. 

"I saw three of them," he said reluctantly. "Ravens." 

The harbringers of doom and death, he added silently. 

"Are you sure?"

"What do you mean, am I sure? Of course I'm sure! I've still got my two eyes, haven't I?"

"Alright, enough with the eye jokes already," Thor complained. "It's very unkind."

"Ravens?" Nothing escaped Steve's keen sense of hearing. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It's a bad omen, Friend Steve," Thor said, sounding uncertain now. "Perhaps my Brother is right. We should heed his advice."

"I'm listening."

"Come on, Cap, you can't be serious!" Clint protested. 

"Loki's intuition has saved us a number of times before, Clint. There's no harm in hearing him out."

Loki ignored the background noise that was Clint Barton and pounced on the chance. 

"What if I told you that there is a way to win this battle without spilling a single drop of blood, ours or theirs?" He asked. "Hypothetically speaking, of course, seeing how they're robots?"

"What are you proposing, Loki?"

He took a deep breath. "Leave the Chronicoms to me. In exchange, I need you to go to the Sorcerer Supreme."

"It's one of you against a hundred of them, Loki. You don't stand a chance."

"I only need to get through to one."

"I don't understand."

"You don't need to, Captain. You just need to trust me."

Steve visibly hesitated. "You are asking us to go against a direct order."

"Wait. You're not seriously considering this, are you?" Clint asked incredulously.

"One more word out of you, Hawk, I will rip your heart out so fast I will serve it to you on a plate still warm and beating," Loki promised. 

He calmly addressed the Captain again. 

"You know I'm right."

"No, Loki, I don't," Steve said, not unkindly. "I simply don't have all the facts to make a judgement in your favor."

"Why don't you go to him, Brother?" Thor suggested gently. 

"I can't. I am not needed there."

"Surely now is not the time for petty - "

Loki cut him off with a look of pure scorn. "No, you misunderstand me. I am needed somewhere _else."_

"Where?"

" 'Cut off the head and the body will die.' "

Tony who had been watching the exchange in silence quipped, "I'm Team Loki. He just quoted Marlon Brando."

"I don't know who that is, but I appreciate your support, Stark." Loki said gravely. 

The strategist in him was lusting for blood but they were still standing around _talking_. "The Zephyr's gone off radar, and I am certain that's where they've congregated. That is their command and control center. That is where I need to be."

"We don't even know where the Zephyr is," Bruce argued.

"We don't need to."

"Will you stop talking in riddles and just tell us what in God's name you're rambling about?" Clint snapped.

Loki bit the inside of his lower lip.

Slowly he produced a gold, disc-like object that reminded Clint of a boomerang. 

Clint's eyes widened. "Hey, that's it! That's the thing I saw he took!"

"You are adorable when you're excited, Hawk."

"You son-of-a - " Clint abruptly clammed up when something that looked and felt like electricity crackled the walls around him.

Loki took advantage of the distraction and continued presenting his case. "Alex called this an Inter-Planetary Conveyance Disc. It's a mouthful, I know.”

He infused the disc with a touch of seidr and it lit up like an angel’s halo. “But this? This is what they use to teleport from one place to another."

"These Chronicoms, they’re all connected to one another. No matter where the Hunters are in the Universe, they will converge on one platform."

"Their spaceship?" Steve guessed.

Loki shook his head. "A _person."_

"You mean like their King or something?"

"An Oracle would be the closest description," Loki said slowly. "She is their lifeline. Without her, the Chronicoms are lost."

"So a queen bee, huh."

"Queen ant," Loki corrected. "She dies, the others will soon follow."

"Okay, Jack Hanna. Let's say it's a toss-up between fighting robots that don't die and fighting alien rats with wings that liquefy your insides to make space for their alien lords who haven't got bodies of their own. If this plan of yours fails, what's stopping the Synths from taking over Midgard?" Tony asked, reusing Loki's own words for effect. 

Loki stared at him, astounded by the ignorance in someone so brilliant. 

"Can't you see? We are fighting the same war. Here, the Chronicoms have won already. The only front we haven't forfeited, is Stephen's." A muscle in his jaw twitched. "And he is alone."

"But so are you," Thor pointed out, clearly distressed.

"As I've always been, Thor. You stop noticing after the first few hundred years." 

"Loki…"

"Contrary to popular belief, Brother, I am not easily killed. Your mollycoddling is unnecessary and extremely irritating.”

"Yeah this is all very heartwarming but Cap's the person you need to convince." Tony unbuckled his seat and joined the others in the face-off, leaving Clint the only one still strapped in. "I don't mean to preach to the choir here but am I the only one who remembers your speech from last time?"

"You said signing the Accords meant signing away our freedom. That they could send us somewhere you don't think we should go, or stop us going where you think we should. Well, I say Loki has a point. I say we let him go."

"Oh my Lord..." Clint hung his head low. 

"You really think Strange is in danger?" Steve asked quietly.

"I don't know. But Juliet seems to think so, and he's willing to go up against the Chronicoms on his own so we could go help out the other team!" Tony gave Loki a look that could not mean anything other than he thought Loki was nuts. "But the way I see it, even if we win here, and Strange falls because we're afraid to act? The world's going to end anyway."

He shook his head. "And I don't want that on my conscience."

"I say we vote," Natasha called out suddenly from the pilot seat. 

In the end, Tony and Thor voted for Loki, with Clint and Natasha voting against; if she had been part of the discussion from the beginning she could have voted differently, but someone needed to fly the plane. 

"Friend Steve?"

"I abstain. Bruce, you're the tiebreaker."

In his most professional assessment of Loki's performance to date, Bruce surprised everyone with his stamp of approval. "Loki's plans are hella crazy and they backfire sometimes, but when they work, they work. And they are very fun to watch too."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome. Also - " Bruce retrieved the Shrike tracker device from his back pocket. "This thing's been going off like crazy, and it's pointing us west of here."

"What, like, Jersey?"

"Nope. Way, way west." Despite the dire circumstances, Bruce still found it pretty funny, so he chuckled. "Like, Wyoming."

* * *

_Devils Tower, Wyoming_

Wong shielded his eyes as he looked up in both awe and apprehension. The volcanic rock formation towered some twelve hundred feet in the air, the neat striations carved into its walls a tapestry of perfection only nature could create. “Please tell me we’re not climbing that.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s still a sacred worship site, a very active one. Spiritually speaking.” Stephen swept his eyes across the deserted plains. “You feel her anywhere?" 

Wong shook his head. He did not feel her the last time either. Izel was like the wind, hidden in the very air they breathed. 

Hiding in plain sight.

With that thought of mind, Stephen retrieved the piece of the Time monolith from his pocket. The igneous rock felt cool in his palm, formed millions of years ago out of the same molten lava that built the mountain behind him.

"Can you feel her now?"

Wong walked about ten yards eastward, careful to avoid the shrubs and heavily grassed areas. 

He stopped in front of a scraggly bur oak tree, its gnarly branches spread out like a pair of wings. 

"Quit ghosting around, Lady." 

Izel stepped out from behind the trunk. 

"Nice rock," she said casually. 

Stephen stepped forward, making sure Wong was behind him this time. "Thank you." 

"It's not yours."

"You left it behind the last time you came," Stephen said. "So technically, it isn't yours either."

Izel smiled, unperturbed. "I walked the Earth for days on end. Could you imagine my frustration, having all this untapped power beneath my feet and no way to get to them?"

"Must be tough," Stephen said. "I would empathise but you did stab me and possess my friend."

"A manner of greeting where I come from."

"Yeah...we're not really keen on that. So why don't you go on home and forget this whole thing ever happened?" 

The more he went over the plan in his head, the more convinced he became of its soundness. The monolith had lost much of its quantum energy, but the fragment stored just enough juice to open a small inter-dimensional portal through which he could push her out to whence she came. 

Stephen gripped the Di'Allas tighter.

Izel saw, and let out a throaty chuckle. 

"Thank you for the offer, Sorcerer, but I no longer require the Di'Allas. Thanks to you, I can now do this!" 

Izel dropped onto her knees and slammed her hands down on the ground. The earth began to rumble. 

"She's sucking power straight from the ley lines and converting it to dimensional energy!" 

Stephen whipped his head heavenward, and true enough, Izel's chanting had torn open a rift in the clouds, bigger than the one he had closed back in Salem, and definitely bigger than the one he was planning in his head. 

As Izel levitated higher off the ground, the sun cast great shadows that turned the shrubs surrounding the two sorcerers as black as night.

"Wong, we have to stop her!" 

Izel raised her head, her smile just as grotesque on her own face as it had been on Wong's. "Rise, my children!" 

"I hate it when they say that! Why do these demons have to be so freaking fertile all the time?" Wong yelled.

From the shadows first came a gravelly sound, like the rustle of the last autumn leaves at the start of winter. 

Then the shrubs came to life in a flight of a thousand wings. 

"Oh, fu - " But Wong's curses drowned in the shrieks of the Shrikes, "Stephen, _run!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter got away from me and was becoming too long. So the real final chapter? This is not it.


	6. Chapter 6

There was no running away from the shadows. 

Teleporting away was not an option either, not when a crevasse was forming in the sky above their heads.

The Cloak of Levitation did its best to deflect the flapping wings and protect its Master, but it was floundering. There were simply too many of the reptilian-passerine hybrids swarming around them; swat one way and ten would take its place.

It was sheer luck that the national park was deserted today, but a threat of this monstrous a scale must be contained. 

The Masters of the Mystic Arts were the first line of defense, and the Sorcerer Supreme its Commander.

Should Earth fall today, it would not be because Doctor Stephen Strange did not stand his ground. 

Stephen's lips worked around the containment spell, but a movement out the corner of his eye caught his attention.

_Wong?_

His fellow Guardian was shaking his head frantically, his hands gesticulating away.

“Wha - ” 

Wong threw himself over the Sorcerer Supreme, clapping a hand over the lower half of Stephen’s face,

 _Don’t talk!_ His eyes screamed. _That is how they get in!_

But the damage was done. A shrill cry splintered the air and the Shrikes swooped in for the kill, like a shiver of sharks smelling blood in water.

Stephen threw out a hand and a scythe of Eldritch magic swept a clean arc through air, slicing a spiral of Shrikes into ribbons of blood and ectoplasm. 

Wong conjured a pair of whips and did the same, cracking the magic bullwhips left, right and center; everytime a lashing hit a target, a miasma of rot and burning flesh arose and would linger long after its dying shriek dwindled. 

I don't have time for this, Stephen raged silently as he pushed his way through the swarm, his Mandala shields singeing every Shrike they came into contact with.

Izel stood on the very top of the mountain, her stance that of a seasoned conqueror. Her red hair billowed in the wind like flames against a canvas of darkness blacker than black. 

Stephen knew he was too far away, but as their eyes met across the battlefield, the connection was as tangible as the malice in the air, dark and oppressive. 

It felt like a smirk, a display of triumph over a battle yet unwon but decisive.

Stephen called upon the wind to herd the clouds over the hole in the sky, but this time the perforation was too big and widening faster than Stephen could close it. 

He needed to get closer. 

Something barreled into him from behind. The Cloak struggled to keep him upright but the stream of wings flurried past and underneath it, before ripping the sentient relic right off Stephen's back.

Defenseless, Stephen raised his Shields again but with his back exposed, the Shrike swanned in and pummelled into him from behind, kicking his legs out from under him.

Stephen pivoted at the knees to try to remain standing but the overcorrection and a second barrage of wings slamming into his chest sent him tumbling into the dirt.

All wind knocked out of him, Stephen tried to hold his breath in but his gasping reflex won out. 

A Shrike shrieked and lunged for his face.

_No!_

An arrow whizzed a scant quarter-inch past his nose, taking out the Shrike in the head with a wet sound.

A second Shrike clambered up Stephen's chest, its claws grazing him in the cheek as another arrow zipped past his face, taking the Shrike with it.

“Did somebody call in the cavalry?”

“Stark!” Stephen almost shouted out, forgetting himself in his surprise.

A black shadow bloomed across the horizon as the Quinjet emerged from its Stealth mode, a welcome sight in a sky fast consumed by the enlarging portal.

A stealthy silhouette planted two more arrows into the cloud of Shrikes to disperse them, and a muzzled Hawkeye hauled the Sorcerer Supreme to his feet. 

Since they could not talk, Stephen signed 'What are you doing here?'

Clint rolled his eyes. 'Your asshole of a boyfriend,' he wanted to say.

L-O-K-I, he signed instead.

Stephen's face changed.

Clint gave a firm shake of the head - no questions! - and dragged Stephen to a clearing where Thor and Wong had raised shields made of magic and lightning, their combined forces repelling the Shrikes, at least for the time being.

"You okay, Boss?"

"Yeah," Stephen lied. He had unthinkingly used his left arm to break his fall and now his stab wound was throbbing painfully. He could only hope that he had not pulled the stitches, or worse, torn the tendons again. 

"Loki?" He mouthed. He severely questioned the wisdom of asking after his...what was Loki now? But he had to know. 

Thor shook his head. 

Stephen nodded jerkily. It was stupid of him to get his hopes up in the first place. "How did you know to come? "

"Ravens," Thor said simply. 

"Man, I was hoping that Doctor Benson was wrong," Tony's voice crackled through the Comm-Link. Being the only one who was theoretically safe from Shrike attacks by virtue of the helmet covering his head, he was dominating the airwaves, "But these things are really, really bad at staying dead!"

Iron Man shot out a repulsor beam, and another Shrike fell out from the sky, landing a few feet from the geodesic dome barrier, half its head blown away.

Its teeth gnashed together as it struggled to take flight.

Thor hit it with a lightning blast; it spasmed and became still. 

“That should take care of it.” But the God of Thunder may have spoken too soon, for before long, the carcass began to twitch again.

The earth trembled when a distant roar rattled the atmosphere, and the ground shook. For a wild moment, Stephen felt a stab of unprecedented fear; the sky was splitting, and now something was coming up from beneath their feet - 

No, it was just Hulk.

“Brucie baby, any luck?” Iron Man’s voice chirped through the static.

“No!!!” Hulk roared, and pummelled a Shrike into the dust with his fist. It was the same Shrike he had been trying to kill for the last few minutes. 

“Don’t talk! I’m the only one who can talk!” Iron Man flew closer to take out a Shrike that was flying too close to Hulk's face.

“Then stop - asking - Hulk - questions!” The beast raged, and he swatted a few Shrikes away from his mouth. “Zombie birds!”

Stephen's eyes searched across the plains, and true enough, the other fallen Shrikes were twitching and jerking on the ground, lively despite the arrows, and a long way from dead. 

He raised his head. The chasm in the sky had now spanned the width of Devils Tower and then some, stretching out as far as the eye could see. 

The Fear Dimension within her reach, Izel was growing stronger by the minute, and so were her army of the Undead, her Shrikes.

Suddenly, amid all that was dark, a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered by in a dance, their gossamer wings of gold catching light in the fast disappearing sun.

Stephen stretched out a hand to touch -

These were sacred Native American grounds, and a yellow butterfly had just landed on his wrist.

"A message from the universe," Stephen whispered to himself. "Hope."

There was hope. Big or small, hope was hope.

Stephen conjured the images as clearly as he could in his mind, the outline of each person’s role, down to the precise timing of the manoeuvres expected of them to make this work.

He sent out the screenplay of the most important game plan in the universe by telepathy, and everyone stiffened at the sudden intrusion.

Thor and Wong each gave a brisk nod of understanding. 

“Roger that, Doctor.” Captain America’s voice suddenly cut through the commotion, and a blue-red shadow approached, cutting through the trees at inhuman speed. “Places, everybody!”

“Decided to join the soiree at last, I see,” Iron Man jibed. “The Old Man finally said yes?”

“Not in so many words, but yeah.” At the sight of the cloud of Shrikes waiting for him up ahead, Steve activated his protective gear, and a faceguard slid across his mouth. “Now stop talking.”

“I am in position, Wizard.” His entire body bristling with electricity, Thor stood high atop a mound to Stephen’s east, and Iron Man flew to his west, flanking the Sorcerer Supreme on each side.

The Cloak of Levitation’s escape from its restraint was akin to a phoenix rising from the ashes, and soon Stephen was soaring high above the rest, the Eye of Agamotto suspended in the air between his hands. 

Its iridescence cut through the darkness like a beacon; wherever its magic touched, the Shrikes shrivelled and deliquesced, seeping back into the ground and into the shadows from where they came.

If Di’Allas was the primal force that had created the original gateway to the Fear Dimension, then the Eye was going to make it close it. 

Stephen cast the fragment of the time monolith into the epicentre of the empty space triangulated by himself, the Iron Man and the God of Thunder.

A torrent of lightning and a laser beam met in the middle, joined a split-second later by an efflux of magic as Stephen summoned the Eye of Agamotto to life. 

The merging of pure elemental and reactor energies with the most powerful magic in the Realm set the Di’Allas ablaze like wildfire. 

Captain America slid the last few yards on one knee and slammed his Shield into the ground right in the heart of the triangle. 

The wildfire bounced off the Vibranium shield, propelling the latticework of energies on its deadly trajectory toward the gaping hole in the sky. 

“Oh Vishanti, it’s working,” Wong whispered, hands shaking from the sheer effort of single-handedly keeping the magical barrier standing.

The rift in the stratosphere began to mend as the Di’Allas worked to cancel out Izel’s dimensional energy and reverse the interdimensional connection. 

Caught in the crossfire between creation and destruction, Izel screamed, a piercing howl that echoed across the plains.

Stephen's thoughts culminated into a clear goal in the chaos; he must see this to the end, he must stop her here and now. 

He floated down, “Wong!”

Wong gave the Sorcerer Supreme a brisk nod of the head, and at Stephen’s signal, Wong slammed the heel of one hand full-force into his chest.

Stephen felt himself catapulted out of his body, the weightless sensation a momentary respite from the heaviness of flesh and blood.

In astral form, Stephen’s body was as light and agile as ever, and he flew toward the sun, soaring over the trees and oceans of bodies below like an eagle. 

He reached Izel just as the Fear Dimension was about to close, and what Stephen saw over her shoulder filled him with a sight so spine-chilling his world dimmed around the peripheries.

Through the tunnel vision, Stephen stared into the heart of the abyss where a legion of wraith-like apparitions stood waiting to cross over, seconds away from being unleashed into the living Realm. 

He grabbed Izel, still paralysed in the throes of agony, her form deformed and eyes filled with pure wrath -

“Not on my watch,” Stephen whispered. 

\- and shoved her into the gap between worlds.

She screamed a string of unintelligible sounds, her curses of rage echoing through the valley, but as the Fear Dimension closed up on her, Stephen caught her last words of wrath. 

“Die, Sorcerer!”

Somewhere below, Thor bellowed. 

“Stephen!” Wong hollered.

Stephen turned and his heart jolted to his throat.

Something around Thor’s waist seemed to have caught on fire. 

“It’s the crystal!” Thor shouted. “I can’t stop it!”

The gemstone, Izel’s vessel, her first and very last gift to the world, came to life.

The Mother Shrike, resurrected by the will of Izel’s dying curse, rocketed up into the air, and dived straight for the Sorcerer Supreme’s uninhabited body. 

In panic, Stephen glided down the top of the mountain but his astral form returned to his body a fraction of a second too late, and the Shrike slid with ease into his open mouth. 

* * *

_The Zephyr_

If there was one thing Loki did not miss about Asgard, it was the Bifrost. Travelling from one Realm to another at the speed of light, though convenient, was a visible affair. Without Heimdall, without Hofund, there was no going anywhere. 

Unless one was Loki, of course. 

The Chronicoms, for all their personal Bifrost and longevity and hardiness, did not stand a chance against Izel. 

Loki had never met her and already Loki hated her. 

Earth is lost, a little voice said. Stephen is lo -

"Welcome." A different voice greeted. 

Loki opened his eyes slowly.

The white room they were standing in could only be a holding cell or an isolation room. 

"Am I in your head?"

"This is a real place." 

Loki nodded. "It must be. It's ugly."

"So you found me. A commendable feat."

"You flatter me. I suggest a little less breadcrumbs next time, a little more excitement in the chase?"

"I will gladly consider it." The petite, olive-skinned woman did not react to the backhanded compliment. "Your reputation precedes you, Loki of Asgard." 

Loki had to admire her discerning taste. The face she chose to wear was neither handsome nor beautiful, but delicate enough to make her strikingly pretty.

"And I've always wanted to meet the famous Time Witch of Chronyca-2. The Fortune-Teller."

"I prefer the designation Predictor," she said. "Sibyl is my name."

"A witch by any other name is still a witch. Please, do not get me wrong, it is a compliment," Loki said politely. "My Mother was one. I, on the other hand, am not as gifted in the art of divination." 

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "It is no skin off my nose, really. Life is more exciting when you don't know what's coming.”

"Unlike you, my species cannot afford such luxury. We are on the brink of extinction. As are you, Loki Prince."

Sibyl cocked her head. "Are you still one, I wonder? A prince, I mean? Last I saw, Asgard has fallen." 

Loki's face remained impassive. 

"I should sympathise, seeing how we are in the same boat after all."

"The Shrike did not destroy Asgard."

"Then what did?"

 _"Who,"_ Loki corrected. "You are looking at him."

"I am impressed." 

Sibyl's smile shared none of its lustre with her dead eyes. "How fortuitous is this? We are incapable of human emotion so do forgive me if I cannot reproduce sympathy very well."

"Neither can I," Loki said brightly. "Which is why I think it is best that you leave."

"When we have come this far?" 

"I would destroy Earth myself before I would have it fall into your hands." 

A teasing smile. "Would you really?"

Loki's merry eyes turned cold. "You think having no emotions is an advantage? If you have seen what my wrath can do, Lady Sibyl, you'd be singing a whole different tune."

"What do you propose then, Loki of once-Asgard?"

"I thought Chronicoms did not negotiate."

"We study, thus we adapt. From our observation, humans are very fond of ceasefires and armistices. I do not understand why, but that is the way of man."

"You sound disappointed."

"And you sound desperate." Sibyl's dead smile widened. "But it is not your life you are desperate for, is it? Even when every single Chronicom on this ship is crying for your blood?"

"My sense of self-preservation is a fickle thing. It is severely lacking most days, or so I've been told." 

"Whereas ours is no great mystery. I suppose that is where our similarity ends."

"So let's bargain, shall we? You leave, and I will not burn every single Chronicom spaceship with everyone on it until all that is left of you is ash."

"You will not get all of us," Sibyl said, her demeanour a living embodiment of serenity. "Perhaps in this timeline, yes, but - "

"I haven't finished," Loki said softly. "Have I told you about my suitor? He controls time. He can get me to any timeline, any universe."

Stephen may not give a damn about him anymore, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Loki could always apologise later for using the Sorcerer Supreme as a bargaining chip, through formal channels, of course. If he survived.

"Let's make it interesting, Loki Prince. Instead of killing each other, let us kill something else."

"I am listening."

"We have a common enemy. The Shrike are descending upon Earth as we speak. Destroy them for us, and we will leave."

"Sounds like something I would do,” Loki said coolly. “Spare your manpower by letting the humans take on the Shrike for you." 

"If the Shrike decimate Earth, it is no longer habitable and you will leave, with no loss of lives on your part. If the humans prevail, you will then attack them with your advanced weaponry and force them to surrender."

He shook his head. "No dice."

"You seek to protect Earth. I seek revenge, on behalf of my people and the home we have lost," Sibyl said. "The Time Stream shows me which enemies are disposable and which enemies are worth...sleeping with."

"I am flattered, really, but you are not my type."

"I did not say which one you were."

Loki feigned surprise. "Why have you not killed me then?"

"You have very expressive eyes. I did not expect to enjoy our conversation quite so much, it would be a shame to have it cut short."

Loki felt a stab of anger.

"What proof of your trustworthiness in this alliance have you to show me?"

"I will tell you where Izel strikes next. That will give you a head start. Hopefully you will get there in time."

"In time for what?"

In a surprising move, Sibyl moved closer, so close Loki was suddenly acutely aware of how his chest rose with each breath, and how hers did not. 

"Your Stephen Strange. Would you like to know the chances of his survival?" Sibyl asked sweetly. "Twenty-three percent."

Loki's chest stilled. 

Sibyl saw, smiled and took a deep, delicious, breath. 

"Ah, emotions. What a beautiful sight." 

* * *

_Devils Tower_

“Stephen!” Wong ran and dropped onto all fours next to his fallen friend. “No, no, _no!”_

Stephen clawed at his throat, struggling to speak, but the only sound he could produce was a wet croak.

“Don’t try to speak!” Wong snapped. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Through eyes filmy with tears of pain, Stephen could only watch as the crowd around him grew in size and noise.

It did little good. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. He could hear someone commanding him to stay awake, but he could not tell who it was.

"Strange, don't do this to me!" In between curses, Iron Man snapped, “Nat, you seeing this?”

“Yeah.” Through the connection, they could hear the sound of keys clacking as Natasha desperately rifled through the files Fury had just authorised the access of for some scrap of information they could use. 

Wong pulled out of his own body, and plunged his astral hand into Stephen’s thorax in a desperate attempt to grab the parasite, but it wriggled and slithered out of his grasp. Stephen howled in agony, his body bucking in the dirt. 

“Loki,” Thor said suddenly. “Any word on Loki?” 

Steve shook his head. “He turned his communicators off right before he left - ”

“I’m here, Brother,” a terse voice spoke, and in a burst of green and gold, the God of Mischief appeared. 

Looking slightly the worse for wear, Loki’s already pale face drained of all colour at the sight of the figure contorted in agony on the ground. “The Shrike?” 

“Thought we’d gotten rid of them all,” Steve answered, his face tight. “We thought wrong.”

“What are their weaknesses?” Loki snapped. 

“According to declassified information, they are susceptible to something called the Shrike daggers," Natasha read out loud.

“Ugh, who came up with all these names? Does SHIELD have no creative talent at all?” Tony griped. “Where can we get one of those?”

“I would sooner stab _you_ in the heart, Stark,” Loki said dangerously. 

“SHIELD melted them all the last time to make bullets,” Natasha said. 

“So that’s a negative on that anyway, But good to know how you really feel about me, Lokes,” Tony muttered. “Got anything else?”

He could almost hear Natasha wince through the connection. “The surefire way to destroy all the parasites is by killing their Master.”

_Their Master?_

“Izel...” Loki whispered. “Where is she?”

“Gone.” Tony swallowed hard. “Sent her back to the Fear Dimension. She ain’t coming back.”

A sick realisation dawned on Loki. “And now that Stephen has sealed the Fear Dimension to where you have allowed her to escape, I have no chance of killing her.”

He whirled, his face white with fury. “You mortals are such fools.”

“We didn’t allow anything! We’ve been busting our asses off holding the fort here since these nasties showed up, where the hell were _you?_ ” Tony countered angrily.

Loki palmed Stephen’s forehead. “He’s burning up.”

Tony could feel heat radiating from his friend’s body from five feet away. Stephen’s fever was too high for it to simply be a physiological response to stress. 

“It’s the toxin,” Steve said. It was one of the things he remembered from speedreading the dossier the Director had sent over. 

"Poison?"

“More like the body’s defenses acting up. Or something along those lines.” Steve shook his head. “Banner could probably explain better.”

“It must be a neurotoxin, driving up the body’s thermoregulatory mechanism to try and fight the antigen. But we can’t let the fever get too high, it’s going to kill him.”

There must be something else they could do. A spell, something.

“I will not let that happen,” Loki vowed, conjuring his dagger. Still kneeling, he held it aloft with one hand, and felt along Stephen’s bucking torso with the other.

“Whoa, whoa, Games, hang on a second! What are you doing?” Tony demanded. "What happened to not stabbing anyone?"

“We need to get it out of him. And my daggers can kill anything." 

Loki was no stranger to field surgery, having been brought up by and among Asgardians, the noblest and most powerful warriors in all of the Nine Realms. 

This was not the time to be squeamish; Stephen’s life depended on it.

Loki concentrated on pinpointing the exact location of the parasite within Stephen’s thoracic cavity but before he could take the final plunge, Stephen let out a bloodcurdling scream, followed by an awful, awful crunching sound. 

Panic-stricken, Loki repositioned the dagger, only to find himself interrupted by none other than the Hulk.

“No, Loki, stop!”

“What?” He hissed.

“Look!” Bruce pointed his sizable thumb at something protruding from between the folds of The Cloak. 

A spoke of crystalline material had punched through Stephen’s shoulder from the inside, razor-sharp and deadly.

“What in the world...” Tony gasped. 

“It's the Shrike's way of retaliating when under threat, they turn the host into a killing machine,” Bruce said anxiously. “SHIELD lost a few people this way.”

Tony shook his head in disbelief. "How do you know all this stuff?"

"I read the obits. The circulars too if Fury happens to be in a sharing mood. Hey, we're all on the mailing list," Bruce said defensively at the incredulous looks from all around. 

"Can we please focus?" Loki snapped. He could feel blisters forming where Stephen's skin touched his, but Loki held Stephen tighter in defiance, gritting his teeth against the pain. 

“Did you not say that it was extreme fever that killed them?” 

“To incapacitate initially, yes. And the Shrikes themselves are weak against the cold.” Bruce tentatively touched the tip of his device to the crystal shards poking through Stephen's skin and it instantly emitted a familiar whine. "This is no biological matter, it’s the same type of PEG like that rock of yours."

Loki's stomach lurched. “What did you say?”

"Piezo-Electric Gems. A kind of crystal that produces an electric charge when compressed, or conversely, alters its molecular configuration when electric charge is applied."

"About the cold, Banner!" Loki could barely keep from shouting. 

“They can’t stand the cold. Slows them down, like brumation in reptiles. Cold enough, they become brittle and die.”

“Why did you not say so in the first place?” Loki hissed and shoved Bruce aside with one hand. “Get out of my way!”

"What do you think you are doing?" Thor demanded, gripping Loki's wrist.

"If you're a parasite and looking for a host, you'd want someone strong. Stronger than these puny mortals." 

Loki’s features twisted into a mask of fury. “I will not let it turn Stephen and use his energy to destroy the very thing he has sworn to protect.”

"You are not offering yourself up!"

"Watch me." Loki wrenched his wrist out of Thor's grip, only for another hand to grab onto the other. 

“Don’t,” Stephen grunted, his voice garbled, chest rippling as the parasite flitted about inside him. “I can't...let you."

“Stephen, shut up." Loki turned to Bruce again. "When you said altering the molecular configuration, did you mean we can manipulate it into changing its shape using electricity?"

"Theoretically, yes."

“Thor, help me," Loki urged feverishly. “You need to get the crystal out. I can’t kill the Shrike until you do, the crystal will kill him first.”

“Brother…” Thor had seen the look in Loki's eyes before. "I won't let you do this. I can't."

“Either help me or run,” Loki whispered, eyes shiny with tears. “Because if I make it out of this alive, I will find you, and _destroy_ you.”

Stephen’s vision began to blacken around its edges. "Loki. No."

“Shut _up!!!”_ With a furious roar, Loki yanked his hand out of Stephen’s fumbling grip. “Thor!”

Galvanised by the rage in Loki’s voice, Thor grabbed Loki’s dagger and made a deep diagonal cut across his palm.

He slapped his bloodied hand against the island of crystal spikes protruding from Stephen’s shoulder. “I’m ready, Brother."

Loki seized Stephen’s face with his hands, Stephen’s mouth with his lips.

His All-Tongue could convey any message it wanted, to any being, sentient or animal. 

The Shrike inside Stephen was getting excited, he could feel it -

 _Come_. 

Stephen tried to seal his mouth as tightly as he could, but to his dismay, Loki broke through the barrier easily, parting Stephen’s lips with his own.

His dismay turned to sorrow upon tasting the salt on his tongue. 

He cursed his lack of strength to wipe the tears away from Loki’s face, but if it were the last thing he saw before he died, he could not have asked for anything more beautiful.

_Oh, Loki._

He could not breathe. The Shrike was in his throat now. 

_No!_ In panic, Stephen pummelled Loki's chest, his fists flailing as he struggled to push Loki off of him, but he only succeeded in making Loki kiss him harder, pry his lips apart wider.

He fought tooth and nail to hold it in; he would rather suffocate than have the Shrike jump from him and into Loki. 

But a new agony took hold of him, hot and blinding. It felt like he was being electrocuted alive, and he gasped.

With finally an escape in sight, the Shrike slid out.

Thor's electricity was liquid fire coursing through his veins, but it was inconsequential, a bee sting in comparison to the monumental pain in Stephen's mutilated heart.

He watched through filmy eyes as Loki's throat bobbed erratically, the grotesque outline of the Shrike's saurian body protruding from his upper chest. 

“Loki - !”

* * *

Loki heard his name being called over and over, distant and hazy. For a fleeting moment unspeakable relief flooded over him, for it sounded so much like Stephen - but the relief was short-lived, when suddenly a pain of the sharpest kind sank its talons into him, eviscerating him from the inside out. 

"Hngh!" He dropped onto all fours, his knees sliding in the slippery puddle of Stephen's blood.

He tried to answer, but what came out instead was a muffled scream, made all the more garbled by the assault on his mind as the Shrike wrestled for control.

Loki was sinking, fast drowning in a nightmare of his own creation.

_Not yet._

He must not lose himself. Thor was almost done. 

As the crystal receded inch by inch in Stephen’s body, Loki watched his lover grow paler from what must be massive internal bleeding as the hollow cavity the crystal left behind quickly filled with blood.

Battling his own pain, Loki bit his tongue hard to beat back the encroaching darkness. His trembling hands fell away from his chest and he gathered Stephen in his arms, lowering them both to the ground. 

The Shrike’s song shrieked in his ear, echoing in the acoustics of his mind, demanding to be let in, but the ease with which his healing seidr flowed into Stephen bolstered his fortitude, and Loki pushed back with all his might. 

_You will not take me._

Loki touched their foreheads together. Stephen’s skin felt colder than his own, a product of imagination by virtue of its impossibility -

Not impossible. Stephen was dying. 

As they lay chest to chest, Loki’s magic flowed into Stephen like a river and the last of Loki’s illusions fell away. His skin turned blue.

The ground turned to ice. 

_Norns, have mercy,_ he implored. _If this be death,_

He kissed Stephen’s cold, cold lips. 

_Take me with thee._


	7. When The Ice Thaws

_Devils Tower_

Stephen's first thought upon returning to the waking world was that he was very cold. Freezing, in fact.

If he could stop the chattering of his teeth, he would say to whoever it was that the use of cold immersion alone was counterproductive in combating high-grade fevers. But for the time being, he was going to enjoy this, the comforting feeling of this icy embrace and the numbness that came with it. He may not remember where he was and much of what happened before he lost consciousness, but he remembered the pain. 

His limbs, barely out of fever-ravaged rigor, moved of their own volition to lean into the cooling blanket someone must have covered him with.

"He's moving!" Someone cried out excitedly. "Holy crap on a cracker, he's alive!"

The leaden weight pressing on him was making it difficult to breathe, but Stephen thought Tony's exuberance deserved some recognition. 

"Good to see you too, Stark," he grunted. 

"Hey, buddy. You good?" Tony sounded more anxious than usual. 

"Loki," Stephen mumbled. "Is Loki alright?"

He was surrounded on all sides, but for some perplexing reason, no one was saying a word. 

He opened his eyes but could not understand what he was seeing. He closed them again, wishing the mirage away. 

A trick of the mind, it was only a trick of the mind. It must be. 

The Shrike must have done a number on him, taken over his mind.

Except - 

The Shrike was not in him, not anymore. 

He reopened his eyes slowly.

Stephen swept the frost-encrusted curls away and palmed the side of Loki's face. He thumbed the hollow of Loki's icy cheek gently, expecting to find suppleness but only finding ice. 

No, Stephen thought. Loki could not be dead. 

Wishful thinking was a futile exercise of one's imagination, with no basis whatsoever on reality, for how could anyone look so blue and still be alive? 

_You're the Sorcerer Supreme_ , the voice of grief inside him said. 

_You can bring him back to life. You can bring anything back to life_

He wrapped an arm around the back of Loki’s waist and slipped the other around the limp shoulder girdle. 

_You can bring him back to life. You can bring anything back to life._

With a strength Stephen did not know he possessed, he flipped Loki's prone form over.

He could hear shouts and cries of protest in the background, but they were all white noise, a speck of dust in the universe. An ant at his feet, one out of the tens of millions for every human on earth, all seven billion of them. 

If this was what grief felt like, it was overrated. 

Stephen felt nothing, only an emptiness so vast it had no walls, no bottom. 

He grasped the sides of Loki's slack face again. It was lined with ridges Stephen had never seen before, intricate markings he could only guess the meaning of. 

Were they lines of death? A disease, a pathological manifestation of the Shrike within?

Stephen had no inkling of how long Loki had stopped breathing but he had to try. His hands began to warm, for how else was Stephen to breathe for Loki without melting the ice covering his lips? 

"Stephen," a person that sounded and looked like Wong grabbed his shoulder. "Stephen, stop."

"Loki's cold," Stephen said simply. Could they not see? 

In the snippets of the future he had caught glimpses of, most often accidentally, Loki had been warm in all of them. 

Someone tried to pull Loki out from under him but the interloper abruptly recoiled upon contact, releasing a nauseating scent of burning meat into the air. 

"Thor!" Steve hissed at the sight of the charred flesh of Thor's hand. 

"It's Loki's skin, it's like touching fire." Thor ground out through clenched teeth. "It's the Jotuns' natural defense. No one can touch him."

"No one but Romeo," Iron Man said, pointing out the obvious.

Thor slid down the trunk of a tree, clutching his injured hand to his chest, his bloodied hand to the bend of his knee to stop the bleeding. "He needs to stop. The Shrike, it is not yet dead. Loki's Jotun form is the only thing keeping it contained."

Thor stared longingly at Loki's limp hand lying a few feet away in the dirt. "If Banner was right, the Shrike will be dead soon. Until then, Loki will remain as he is."

Wong got down on one knee next to his friend. "Stephen, I know how you feel but you gotta stop."

Stephen ignored his fellow Guardian. All he could think of was the parasite still flitting about inside Loki's corpse and feeding on his life force, or what was left of it after Loki had exhausted every drop to save his life. 

Why was Wong of all people stopping him? Being the first person Stephen had resurrected with the Eye of Agamotto all those years ago, Wong was speaking from a highly privileged place.

“Strange, look at him.” Wong was on the verge of yelling. “For heaven's sake, just _look!”_

Stephen forced himself to stare at Loki's chest, its stillness a mockery of his stature as the all-powerful Sorcerer Supreme. 

_The greatest of them all,_ Loki once teased, upon returning one of the Sanctum's precious relics he had stolen right under Stephen's nose the night before in exchange for a naughty night just like it, and many nights thereafter. 

Stephen always liked a good challenge. This was not it. This was far from it.

Then he saw it, a sudden ripple of Loki's blue-veined chest. 

"He's still breathing," Bruce said, sounding strangely breathless himself.

They watched as another movement, this time unmistakably from the Shrike, cascaded down Loki’s torso like a wave breaking the surface of seawater, and relief turned to alarm.

“Loki’s still alive. But we need to get him some help. You too, Doctor," Bruce urged.

"I will take Loki back to New Asgard."

"You can't touch him," Stephen said dimly.

"He is my brother!" Thor thundered.

"You can't touch him without burning," Stephen repeated, his voice hollow, with none of the animosity Thor was displaying. 

Thor's face instantly contorted.

At the sight of their comrade near tears, something tugged on Tony's heartstrings. 

"Hey, this is just a suggestion but how about this. Why don't we take Loki back to my place? He has his own floor, you know. I'm sure we can find you a room too, Doc."

"SHIELD will not have him," Thor said menacingly. By the look on Stephen's face, it was a sentiment shared. 

"No, no," Tony shook his head wildly. "No SHIELD, I swear. Just access to the best medical staff and technology modern medicine has to offer. And I’m sure all of us are in need of some patching up too.”

Stephen struggled with Loki's dead weight. On a good day with his magic at full-charge, he could have managed but his close brush with death had sapped him of almost all strength. 

"Come on, Doc. You gotta let us help."

The shine of Iron Man's suit glinted out the corner of Stephen's eye, but despite the debilitating weakness, letting go of Loki was simply unthinkable. "I'm fine." 

A hand grasped his shoulder gently. "Stephen."

At Wong's grounding touch, Stephen's world collapsed.

Wong caught him around the waist just as his knees buckled and Iron Man pried Loki out of his arms, being the only other person who could touch Loki without excruciating pain courtesy of his suit. 

Steve took Stephen's other arm and looped it over his shoulders, and together they limped toward the lowered ramp of the waiting Quinjet. 

* * *

_New York City_

"The ice is spreading." 

Wong's voice echoed. 

The medical bay had lost all semblance of clinical austerity. The ice had spread up the walls and was starting to encroach on the ceiling where icicles hung from the beams like stalactites.

He looked around and saw hardly any electrical equipment save for the hardiest, most rudimentary vital sign monitors. The others had long since short-circuited or been rendered useless by the sub-zero temperature or the ice itself.

Wong trod carefully lest he slip on the floor slick with ice. 

"Stark's probably reneging on that offer now," he said, still adamant about drawing his reticent friend into conversation. He too, was curious about the outcome of the special meeting the Sorcerer Supreme had been invited to. 

Stephen snorted. "Are you kidding? He's taken this on as a personal challenge. Fury's been itching to take Loki off of his hands." 

At the unspoken question in Wong’s eyes, "He wants answers just like the rest of us," Stephen sniffed. "Albeit to very different questions."

How did Loki single-handedly get the Chronicoms to concede? Was it a feigned retreat, a tactical withdrawal to lull Midgardians into a false sense of security? Will the Chronicoms be back?

If these were the sole issues the Director needed answers to, Stephen had no problem acquiescing to Fury's strongly-worded request, but he and the rest of the Avengers knew better than to dangle the only Jotun around for miles under Fury's nose, especially in Loki's current defenseless state. 

"We could take him back to the Sanctum," Wong said reluctantly, "if you want."

Stephen gave his best friend a grateful half-smile. "Never in a million years would I have thought I'd hear you say that."

"Guess he's grown on me," Wong sighed. "He knows the way to a man's stomach."

At Stephen's curious gaze, he waved an embarrassed hand. "Loki used to bring freshly baked bread from Asgard all the time when you first started seeing each other."

"He did?" Stephen raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yep. Best damn bread I've ever tasted. The Asgardians, they don't play around."

Stephen's smile vanished. "Thor is taking Loki back to Asgard today. He has asked for my help."

Wong only nodded. 

It was only fair after all. Thor had given modern medicine and Earth magic the benefit of the doubt, yet neither had been very successful at curing his brother.

If anything, Loki had gone into a deeper sleep, with the slow beating of his heart detectable by sonography alone being the only sign that he was still living. Anything more invasive than that, his body had been quick to reject; no instrument could penetrate his skin without becoming brittle and breaking. 

"How will we know when the Shrike is truly dead?"

For days, Stephen had wondered the same thing. But now, seeing Loki lying so still, serene in this icy tomb, the answer came to him like a lazy wave crashing a glacial shore. 

"When the ice thaws," Stephen said softly, for Loki could not answer for himself.

He would never leave Loki wanting for anything, not while he was sleeping. 

Wong shivered involuntarily, more from Stephen’s spine-chilling words than anything else. “You want me to get you a coffee or something?”

Stephen's lips curled involuntarily, finding the idea quite amusing. A hot drink would go cold in a matter of seconds in this icy cavern of a room. 

“I appreciate your concern, Wong, but I’m fine,” Stephen reassured his worrywart of a sidekick. “It is you I’m worried about. You shouldn’t be handling all the extra responsibility at the Sanctum.”

“I’ve done this a lot longer than you, boy. I think we’re going to be just fine,” Wong growled, but the sympathy in his voice tempered his grouchiness down some. 

Stephen returned the awkward pat on his shoulder. He never doubted Wong for a second; the Sanctums could not have been left in better hands. “Thanks, my friend.”

* * *

When the protests from his empty stomach became too cacophonous to ignore, Stephen forced himself to his feet, but grabbed for his chair again when he began seeing stars. That was not a good sign. 

With a great sigh, he cast a lingering look at the figure lying on the bed. "I'll just be a minute, Loki."

He stepped out of the ice-cold chamber and instantly felt his face flush from the sudden blast of warm air from the outside.

"Agent Barton. I did not expect to see you here."

Stephen closed in the last few steps between him and the lone figure standing in the hallway.

"Didn't expect to be here," Clint muttered. "We all do crazy things sometimes."

"Crazy is...subjective." Stephen gave a small shrug. "I'm sure we've all seen our fair share." 

"Of crazy?" Clint scoffed. "Tell me about it. How else do you explain what happened today?"

Stephen refrained from making conjectures about the reasoning behind Clint Barton's throwing his support behind Thor, instead of Nick Fury's absurd demands. 

There was no love lost between the archer and Loki, and no one was more surprised than Stephen that Clint did not take the opportunity to hand Loki over to SHIELD the first chance he got. 

"I don't know what you mean," Stephen said politely.

"Of course you don't," Clint snorted. He stared through the observation window at the blue-skinned figure enshrouded in layers of ice. "You taking him home?"

Stephen wished he could give a different answer. "There's not much we can do for him here. It's a bit out of our depth." 

"I'm sorry," Clint said reluctantly. 

Now this Stephen had to hear. Anyone apologising to him out of the blue was a suspicious affair indeed. "What for?"

"Back when we were sent to fight the robot aliens, he fought tooth and nail to get us to go to you." Clint tipped his chin at the window. "I voted against."

Stephen could not believe his ears. His mouth worked soundlessly around his astonishment but in the end could only manage, "I'm sure you had your reasons."

"Spite," Clint said swiftly. Then with a thousand-yard stare, "I did it out of spite. There's no sugarcoating it."

"So yeah. Guess I'm trying to do the right thing," Clint sighed. "If this is even what it is anymore."

Stephen was not a man of many words. He was of the belief that silence was better than saying the wrong thing. But this was one of those moments when keeping his silence would be far more damaging.

"If you are more at peace now than you were before you did it, that's one way of knowing." 

"Hmm." Clint's pensive mood lifted by a fraction. "This is bigger than me, but I hope I've done you a favor with what little I did."

"You saved my life, Agent Barton," Stephen reminded. "That's not something I easily forget."

"Yeah...don't mention it." Clint threw Loki one last look, before straightening his shoulders. "We look out for each other."

For once, Stephen did not detect any hostility in the archer's demeanour, only a bleakness that felt too heavy to be indifference, too ill-defined for sadness.

If coming back from this was possible at all for Loki, having one less enemy in his own team was a welcome consolation. 

"Take care of yourself, Doctor."

They shook hands.

* * *

_New Asgard_

"Fancy Man." 

Stephen turned slowly to see a now-familiar figure sashay down the hallway, her exaggerated swagger that of a world-weary yet seasoned warrior. 

"Didn't expect to see you here again so soon."

Stephen returned her calculative smirk with a small smile of his own. "You say the same thing every time, Lady Valkyrie. It's getting pretty old."

"Until you drop the whole 'Lady' crap, I'm going to keep on saying it." 

"Has there been any change?"

"Since you left last night?" The lack of inflection in Valkyrie's voice dashed Stephen of any hope. "You may have better luck asking Thor."

"How's Thor?"

"He's...trying."

That summed it all up; it encompassed everything Stephen himself was trying to do. 

To cope, to take it one day at a time. To go about his daily life while he endured the longest waiting game of his life. 

"You have siblings of your own?"

"Had." Stephen slowly took off his gloves and clasped them neatly against his midriff. "It's just me now."

"I'm sorry." 

"They are in a better place."

"When was the last time you slept?" She asked, sounding more curious than concerned. 

"Here and there," Stephen said vaguely.

Val snorted, but a split-second glimpse of emotion flashed through her eyes, too quickly for Stephen to name. 

"What?"

"Nothing." She smirked. "You just reminded me of the Prince is all. He too never gave real answers to anything."

"You're looking a bit rough around the edges yourself, my Lady."

"It's tough. But it's nothing compared to what Thor's going through. I mean, he just got Loki back. It's been a long and hard road to recovery for the both of them."

Stephen gave her a sharp look. 

"The Mad Titan did a number on you too, didn't he?"

"He did a number on all of us."

"It's good that you're here. Maybe you can convince the King to take a break. We can't afford to have both Regent and heir down for the count."

"A virgin kingdom...a people barely out of mourning…" Val gave her bottle a lazy swirl to see if she was anywhere near the bottom, "and a brother he can't touch."

"Can't get any shittier than that." And with those last words, Valkyrie drained her bottle dry with a vengeance. 

* * *

A familiar figure sat in the chair.

( _his_ chair) 

Unlike the nights before, Thor did not rise to leave Loki's sickbed.

"Majesty." Stephen tried to wade through the crushing avalanche of disappointment. "I will come back later."

He had wanted to be alone with Loki. The six hours' difference between New Asgard and New York should have meant that the day belonged to Thor, the night his. 

Before he could pull the door to a close, Thor stopped him with a gruff, "Doctor."

It finally occurred to Stephen that this was the first time they would be sitting together since they had taken Loki back to New Asgard, the three of them. 

The silence spoke volumes. 

"I am sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Not your fault," Thor said simply. "My brother made his choice. I stand by it."

Stephen wondered which of Loki's choices Thor was alluding to. 

"Do you know...I have never seen my brother's Jotun form before?" 

At the stunned expression on Stephen's face, Thor nodded, a shameful expression on his haggard face. "It is true."

Sounding suspiciously hopeful, the God of Thunder prodded further, "He...has shown you his true form before?"

Stephen wondered if he should lie, and then wondered why he even considered lying in the first place. In this unspoken competition between Thor and him, there was a clear winner and it was not him. 

"No," he said shortly.

There was no triumph or pity in Thor's voice, only the most genuine sympathy. "I cannot imagine what must be going through your mind right now."

Was it not obvious for everyone to see? That there was nothing Stephen wanted more than for Loki to open his eyes? To smile, to laugh, to love again, whatever his form?

"I can't imagine it's a great mystery," Stephen muttered. "He is the same person."

Thor appeared pleased with his answer. 

"I don't believe I have thanked you for what you've done," Stephen said.

Thor frowned. 

Stephen looked pointedly at Thor's hand, where the scars from Loki's dagger had keloided over, silver-white against the bronze of Thor's skin. 

Thor curled his fingers into a fist. "No harm done, see?"

There was a hint of sadness in Thor's voice that was not sitting very well with Stephen.

"I know you didn't have to do it. So...thank you." 

Everyone knew how persuasive Loki could be, Thor most of all. 

"That's where you're wrong, Stephen." Thor shook his head ruefully. "I don't assume to know why you're here every night."

Stephen froze, bracing himself for what was coming.

"Anxiety, grief...but if it's guilt, I suggest you make peace with yourself."

Stephen's jaw fell at Thor's next words.

"I am to blame."

"How is any of this your fault?"

Thor answered Stephen's question with a question. "The night before we left for the mission, we had just come back from the Sanctum, if you recall?"

Stephen did not respond, for he was there after all. He remembered the hurt, the humiliation. It all seemed very petty now. 

"Loki was most distraught." 

Stephen must have made a sound, for Thor began to nod in earnest. 

"This may sound irrational to you, but I think on some unconscious level, Loki was trying to protect himself." 

"From what?" 

The look on Thor's face said it all and Stephen's jaw dropped further. 

"From _me?"_

"From his love for you." 

"But that's...absurd. That is completely insane." 

"Like I said...irrational. But not unfounded." Thor's haunted eyes hardened. "He had been conditioned."

"Conditioned?"

"By our family, friends. Asgard. The whole of the Nine Realms, really." 

Thor inhaled deeply. "But most of all, by me."

"For centuries he stood behind me...and in the end, he threw himself off the Bifrost to escape the eclipse." 

Thor slumped forward. 

"When I got him back, I made a promise to myself that he would never find himself in that position ever again."

The depth of Thor's mismatched eyes was unfathomable. "And then he met you."

"I would never hurt him," Stephen said automatically. "I love him."

"I do not doubt that," Thor accepted readily. "He is very easy to love, but also difficult. He is the most perplexing paradox." 

"You misunderstand me, Strange. It is not your commitment nor your strength I question. You can hold your own against Loki, there is no other mortal for whom I can say the same."

"And yes, you were right. About what you said the other day." Thor managed a weak smile. "I would give anything to hold my brother but I can't. I can only watch you." 

His smile wavered. "Which begs the real question. Can he touch _you_ without burning?”

A solemn silence filled with nothing but the sounds of uneasy breathing and settling ice ensued.

"Thor," Stephen called softly. "Give me your hands."

He waited patiently for Thor’s internal debate to recede; when suspicion finally abated and Thor placed his hands in Stephen’s, he wasted no time weaving the spell he had spent the last few days perfecting. 

“I don’t feel any different,” Thor said.

“You’re not supposed to.” Stephen tipped his chin toward the figure lying on the bed. “Loki is.”

Thor refused to trail the path of Stephen’s gaze. “I’m afraid I do not follow.”

“Hold him.”

Thor’s hand hovered over his brother's immobile form, wavering between Loki’s hand and shoulder. He was under no delusion that his touch could bring his brother out of his icy slumber, but he could at least make it a familiar one. He cupped the side of Loki’s neck as he had done countless times before.

Thor braced himself for the pain but to his utter surprise, no canker of frostbite laid claim to his Aesir skin. 

He gasped. “How did you - ”

"It is an attenuating spell that acts on the nerve endings that relay pain and temperature signals to your brain. Loki taught me that one to help with the pain in my hands. I just tweaked it a little."

"Thank you, Stephen," Thor said gratefully, his eyes shiny. Then they widened. "Your hands? So Loki did help you?"

"No, I meant - my old injuries. From when I had my car accident years ago."

"Oh." Thor winced in embarrassment. "My apologies, Strange, I didn't know what I was saying - " 

"No, I shouldn't have brought it up, it was so long ago - "

The awkwardness that fell over the room somehow made them both more conscious of the cold, judging by how Stephen started fumbling with the Cloak, Thor the sleeves of his tunic.

"I asked him about it, you know," Thor said suddenly. "He said he was afraid he did not love you enough." 

Stephen's fingers stilled around the hem of his Cloak. 

Thor lowered his eyes to the floor. "I think he was afraid of the truth." 

"And what is the truth?" Stephen asked dimly. 

"That he loved you too much." 

Something in Stephen changed forever. 

"He can't." There was a peculiar stinging in his eyes no amount of blinking was helping. "He mustn't. Not at the expense of his own - " 

He tried to stop the tears from falling, but one escaped. It dropped onto the back of Loki's hand and turned to ice within seconds.

"You really do love him."

Stephen wiped his bitter tears hastily. "Gee, I wonder what gave me away." 

"Thank you." Thor's heartfelt gratitude was a slap in the face. Stephen did not deserve it, not after doubting Loki for as long as he did. 

If this ended up costing Loki's life, he did not know how he was going to live with himself. 

* * *

The Healer's hands hovered over Loki's body, her seidr enveloping her patient in a golden glow that for a while, it lit Loki's slumbering face with an ethereal radiance.

Stephen found himself staring, entranced by how peaceful Loki looked. 

"The parasite is no more."

"You are certain?"

"Yes, my King." 

With a wave of her hands, a holographic projection of Loki's internal organs materialised in the air. Stephen scrutinised the image and true enough, there was no sign of the Shrike flitting about in Loki's thoracic and abdominal cavities. 

"It has finally ceased to live, its form lost, its poison neutralised." 

"Where did it go?" Thor wondered. 

"The resorption of any alien material is an intrinsic process, Your Majesty," she said. "The Prince may have eliminated it from his system."

"So he is not long from waking?" Thor's face brightened with hope. 

"I do sense the return of Prince Loki's magic, but it is too early to tell." A tinge of regret coloured her explanation. "We could never tell with the Allfather either."

"But Odinsleep lasted for weeks, months!"

"Prince Loki's internal injuries were quite severe, my King," the Healer said gently. "He will wake when he is ready."

"The ice is receding. His colours are returning." Stephen had to agree with the Healer's observations. "He is mending, Thor."

"You are right. If Loki were here, he would be the one cautioning patience," Thor said sheepishly.

" 'Get your act together' or 'Use your head, Thor!' " he mimicked. "I was always rushing headlong into something, as you can probably imagine."

Stephen raised his eyebrows, impressed by the uncanny impersonation.

"You never realised how much you needed someone until they were taken away from you." Thor's lower lip quivered. "Without my brother, I am...lost."

"He will wake, Thor. I swear on my life," Stephen promised. "I will bring him back to you."

"You're a good man, Stephen." A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. "Loki is fortunate to have found you."

Stephen joined Thor in watching Loki sleep and wondered if the opposite was not more accurate. 

"Neither of us would be alive right now if it hadn't been for Loki."

"True," Thor admitted, but his smile was wide and affectionate. "But he's still annoying though. Take for example that twitching thing he does with his eyebrows, you know, when he's trying not to shout at you."

Stephen laughed.

"And does he do that humming thing with you?"

"All the time," Stephen smiled wistfully. "And you don't know if you're really in trouble or if he's just messing with you."

“I miss him, Stephen.” Thor’s eyes were wet. “I miss my brother.”

"Me too," Stephen longed to say. By God he missed Loki too, he missed Loki so much it hurt.

"He will come back to us, Thor," he said firmly. "He will."

_He must._

* * *

_Tap. Tap._

Stephen woke to the sounds of dripping water.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

He looked for the source of the deafening sound. 

One of Loki’s hands had slipped down the side of the bed, Stephen must have let it drop out of his grasp when he had fallen asleep. 

Stephen watched the water drip slowly from Loki’s fingertips, droplet after droplet, and onto the puddle collecting on the floor. 

Loki's Aesir form was returning little by little with the receding of his Jotun heritage lines as his memory cells evoked Odin's powerful spell of long ago. 

There was no reason why Loki should still be sleeping. Had his magic been so depleted that it compromised his basal consciousness? 

The water droplets from the tips of Loki's hair trailed down the pillow and coalesced, pooling under his neck and shoulders.

 _Water_. 

Stephen had a love-hate thing going on with their long-distance relationship, one ameliorated by water. 

Water was everywhere, and anywhere there was water, they could talk to each other whenever they wanted, wherever they may be in the universe. 

He knew not the wisdom of what he was about to do, only that if he did not try, he would regret it for the rest of his life, for he did not think he could last for another day without hearing Loki's voice.

Stephen sealed Loki's chamber with magic, for this was their moment and theirs alone.

He tossed his clothes at the foot of the bed as he methodically stripped down to his underclothings. He ignored the shivers collecting at the base of his spine. 

The bed squelched under him as he walked his hands and knees across the mattress. 

He laid himself down on top of Loki very, very carefully. The last splinters of ice clinging to Loki's gown pricked his skin but his body heat was melting the ice faster than passive waiting ever could. 

He kissed their foreheads together, just as Loki had done on the day he offered himself to the Shrike, the day Loki bargained his life away for Stephen's.

Through the water, he called. "Loki."

Hear me, he pleaded silently. Answer me.

_I know you can hear me._

Loki's body suddenly gave a violent tremble.

"Loki?" For a crazy moment, Stephen thought he was going into a seizure, but when Loki desperately began to paw at his chest and belly, Stephen's training took over and his reflexes kicked into gear.

He hefted Loki up into a sitting position and conjured a basin just in time to catch the contents of Loki's stomach as he purged sludge as black as crude oil. 

Loki moaned, fetid ichor dripping down his chin. 

Stephen clung to his shuddering back comfortingly. "It's okay. Get it all out."

Once they were sure all the liquefied carcass of the Shrike had left Loki's system, Stephen wiped his face clean off gunk and blood with a washcloth.

Utterly exhausted, Loki sagged and would have collapsed onto the bed had Stephen not caught him.

For the next few minutes, he just held the trembling frame close. 

"You're alive," Loki murmured into his neck, over and over. "You're alive."

Stephen tightened his embrace to convince Loki that he was not dreaming. Or maybe he was trying to convince _himself_. 

He kissed Loki's temple over and over, not trusting his voice to speak. Mere words could not convey the true extent of his feelings, his overwhelming relief, this cascade of emotions threatening to swallow him whole. 

The cacophony of noises had begun outside, but it was easy to ignore the clamouring and banging if he only concentrated on the sounds of Loki breathing. 

The others could wait. Thor, the Healers, the world - 

Let this moment stretch forever. It was theirs.

* * *

"How are you feeling?"

"You asked me that not ten minutes ago, Stephen."

"No, that was the Healer. She didn't count." 

Loki hummed. " 'What, can't the devil speak true?' "

" 'I delight no less in truth than life.' "

Loki pursed his lips. "I am impressed, Doctor. You seem to have taken up new interests."

“Did you know that the only English-speaking channel you have here is BBC Shakespeare?”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up to meet his hairline. “And you’ve been here long enough to learn Macbeth in its entirety?”

"It's got witches in it."

"I've had enough of witches, enough of prophecies." Loki's hand sought Stephen's. "I like what I have now."

"You scared me to death, Loki."

Not one to lose so easily, Loki raised his chin in defiance, "You scared me to death first."

But the way Stephen kept running a shaky thumb over his knuckles vanquished all pride, and Loki instantly deflated. 

"For what it's worth, Stephen…" Loki began haltingly, "I am sorry."

"No. _I_ am." Stephen knew just what Loki was apologising for. "I didn't understand. And I didn't try to understand."

"I was too wrapped up in my own pain that I didn't see yours." With his other hand, Stephen traced the faint outline of the bruises on Loki's neck, just as Loki had once done with the scar over his heart. "I watched you through the ice and saw these lines were the last to fade." 

"I realised then that they were not part of your heritage lines at all," he murmured. "How did I not see this?"

Loki shrank away from Stephen's touch. "No. I know that look."

"Loki, you have to let me try."

"To reverse it would mean undoing what Death had done."

"Death is an old friend," Stephen said mildly. 

"It would mean resurrecting _him_." Loki could not say his name out loud, he never could. "Stephen, you can't."

Stephen saw the lingering doubt in Loki's eyes and finally recognised it for it was.

"You have nothing to fear from me, Loki."

"I don't know why I feel this way." Loki's eyes were shiny with unshed tears. "Something must be broken."

"You wanna know what I think?"

Loki closed his eyes. "Please." 

"You can't tell if having me in your life was healing you or hurting you," Stephen said quietly. "It's tearing you apart."

"That doesn't make sense." 

"It didn't make sense to me either, not at first," Stephen said. "But something Thor said just...clicked."

"You and Thor talked?" 

"We had to do something to pass the time." Stephen teased an errant curl off Loki's forehead. "You were taking your time."

The tender gesture was a far cry from how they had left things the last time, and Loki had to wonder just, "What did my Brother say?"

"That I was triggering you. Making you relive past trauma and trapping you in an endless loop of love and rejection."

"He said that?" Loki had no idea Thor was that articulate. "Huh."

"I guess Thor isn't as ignorant as some people make him out to be."

There was no hiding the hint of pride in Loki's smile. "No. Just strategically incompetent."

"I want to be with you, Loki.”

Loki's voice cracked as immense joy warred with grief, “I sense a but coming. That cannot be good.”

Sensing Loki retreating into his shell, Stephen was quick to grab his hand. 

“I want to be with you,” he said fiercely. “But I gotta know. Am I hurting you? Coz I don't think I can live with myself if - " 

Stephen caught himself. He took a deep breath to centre himself. "What am I?"

 _Am I a balm or a wound?_ He asked silently.

"I think you know," Loki said slowly. 

Stephen shook his head, uncomprehending. 

Loki looked around the walls of his room where once ice had hung, silent and foreboding. "This would have been my tomb."

"You...heard me?"

"Of course. You were quite loud," Loki answered dryly. 

"Sound does travel faster through ice and water," Stephen said.

"That's lame, Stephen." 

He laughed at the face Loki was making. "I hope that's not another word for boring."

"Boring's good." Loki closed his eyes against the comfort of Stephen's chest. "Boring's _nice."_

"Then I promise I won't change."

His long lashes brushed against Stephen's bare skin. "What am _I?"_

"Loki, you saved my life."

As self-explanatory as Stephen's statement was, Loki somehow managed to put his own spin to it. 

"It's no special feat. The Ancient One, Christine, they've all done it." 

Stephen stared. "You simply have no idea, do you?"

"Enlighten me, Doctor. I'm afraid my time in the ice has made me quite stupid," Loki mumbled. 

"Loki, you not only saved me, but you saved the _world._ " Stephen danced his thumb around the tip of Loki's shoulder. "If Izel had possessed me, the Fear Dimension would have been upon us in a second."

"Yes, how did you keep your mind? Izel was powerful enough to possess Wong, how did you not lose yourself?" 

"It was _you."_

"I beg your pardon?"

Stephen pulled back, and a split-second later, pressed something into the palm of Loki's hand. 

"The carnelian," Loki marvelled. "You still have it."

"Clarity and focus." Stephen recalled Loki's words on that lazy afternoon with a reminiscent smile. "I guess it did what it said on the tin."

"So I saved the world? Twice?"

Stephen beamed. "I guess you did. And I think it's thrice, but who's counting. Although Nick Fury did mention something about a medal…"

"I have no use of a medal," Loki said. 

"What it symbolises is what matters. Valor. Trust." Stephen mulled. "Friendship."

Speaking of friends, 

"What did the others say when they saw me like this?" Loki asked quietly. 

"They didn't say anything."

A sniff. "Of course they didn't. Anyone would be rendered speechless, I suppose."

Stephen's mouth fell open. "Loki, they thought you were dying. We all did."

"Why do I not disgust you?"

"What sort of a question is that?" 

Loki shrugged, his eyes long shifted and looking everywhere else but Stephen.

"Loki, I'm a doctor. I'm used to dealing with blood and vomit and all manners of body fluids."

"You know that's not what I mean," Loki said softly. 

How do you decondition somebody who would always see something ugly whenever he looked in the mirror, no matter how many times he was told he was beautiful? 

Stephen had no idea. 

"Why do I not disgust _you?"_ He asked, for returning the question always worked. "I'm old." 

Loki's nose flared, but Stephen quickly raised a hand. "By human standards, I am. My hair's more white than not, and my knees creak when I walk. If you want to talk scars, I've got my share and they certainly aren't pretty."

"When I first saw you this way...I thought you were dead." The grief returned briefly to Stephen's seaglass eyes. "I don't care what colour you are, as long as you're alive."

Loki's eyes welled. "The things you say sometimes, Doctor."

"Will you let me help you now?"

Loki sighed. "If I must."

Stephen placed his hands close to the sides of Loki's neck, just shy of touching. He could sense Loki tensing up, his neck muscles bunching under the strain. 

"Just try to relax," Stephen murmured. 

It could have been a few seconds, or a few minutes, but Loki only realised Stephen was done when he felt a gentle hand shake his shoulder.

"How's that?"

Loki reached for his throat, eyes widening in astonishment. "The pain is gone."

"That's great!" Stephen could not be happier nor prouder of himself. "Can't believe it worked."

"What did you do?" Loki asked.

"I have seen cases of patients whose psychopathology is expressed in cutaneous lesions," Stephen said. "I had a suspicion this was similar."

Loki's only response was a blank stare. "Your words sound English, yet their meaning escapes me."

"The bruises, the pain, they were not remnants of dark sorcery or a curse...only the physical manifestations of a psychiatric condition," Stephen explained patiently. "In your case, a very traumatic event in your past." 

"Are you saying it was all in my head?" Loki gaped.

"Didn't make it any less real," Stephen soothed. "The subconscious is a powerful thing."

"So Thanos is...gone?"

Stephen nodded. "He was never there."

An overwhelming weakness overcame Loki, and he gave in to it, knowing full well it had more to do with having one less demon in his head and less his recent physical illness. 

"Thank you, Stephen." Loki let out a shuddery breath. "I don't know how I can repay you."

"You don't ever need to," Stephen said tenderly. "Just promise me one thing." 

Loki suddenly looked wary. "I'm listening."

"That you won't complain if it gets a bit much." 

Loki's heart skipped a beat, his mouth suddenly as dry as ash. "If what gets a bit much?" 

"Me saying I love you," Stephen said quietly. 

Loki's stomach flipped. "Stephen."

"I love you, Loki," Stephen confessed. "And I want to be able to say freely, anytime I want. Without judgment, without hesitation." 

He searched Loki's terrified eyes. "Without fear."

"If I let you, will you promise me one thing in return?"

Stephen braced himself. Knowing Loki, it was likely going to be sensational, whatever he had in mind. "What is it?"

"Should you find that one day - " Loki's voice caught in his throat. "Should you ever fall out of love..." 

_Tell me_.

Stephen's face changed.

_Lie to me._

"No, Loki. You are asking the impossible." 

Stephen cradled Loki's face in his hands.

“It has always been my destiny to love you," he said fiercely. "Forever."

Tears prickled Loki's eyes. 

“As it is mine." His hands cupped the sides of Stephen’s face. “To love _you.”_

Self-doubt reared its monstrous head yet again, and Loki wavered. "But are you sure? Forever is a long, long time."

Stephen pried one of Loki's hands off the side of his face and pressed it against his mortal heart.

"Not long enough for me," he said quietly.

Loki's skin lost all its duskiness as it returned to its normal porcelain luminosity, and Stephen found the answer he had been looking for. 

As was most everything in the universe, it was staring him right in the face. 

"You are my light," Stephen said. "No one shines brighter than you."

"The things you say, Stephen."

"Let me guess. Lame?"

 _"Very._ But I love them." Loki grabbed the front of Stephen's robe and pulled him close for a kiss. "Say it again."

* * *

_Sanctum Sanctorum_

"I thought they would never leave."

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

"Thank you. You didn't have to do this."

"Your Brother wanted to celebrate our recent victory and of course, your return to health."

Stephen took a break from clearing the table, walked all the way across the room toward the divan and kissed his Ice Prince, just because he could. "No one is more thankful for that than me."

"Yes, but a party? At the Sanctum?" Loki looked up at his lover suspiciously. "Did you not say that this was a place of peace and reverence?"

"I did, yes. And it is." Stephen's smile was full of glee. "You broke Stark's heart when you declined his offer."

"Your counteroffer was irresistible." Loki laid back against his throne of cushions. "At least with you I knew there was going to be real food. BYOB? That was brilliant."

"Yes. We serve only tea here."

Stephen collected said teacups scattered all over the place, hidden in bookcases and in pots of plants. "And by no means does that mean I don't know how to have a good time or throw a good party."

Loki rolled his eyes. "If you can call impromptu tea leaf reading sessions a party."

"Didn't you have a good time?" 

"I'm surprised Fury accepted your invitation."

Now that cleaning up was seventy percent done, it was time to take a breather.

Stephen handed Loki a cup of chamomile tea. "We're best friends now, haven't you heard?"

"Really? Last I heard he was considering taking disciplinary action against us for disobeying his orders." Loki looked up sharply over his steaming teacup. "For aiding you."

"I don't take things like that personally. He's got his own thing he needs to protect."

Loki harrumphed. "You're too kind sometimes, Stephen."

"Not sure we want each other as enemies, that's all," Stephen sighed. "You still haven't warmed up to him, huh?"

"Fury wouldn't let me near his cat," Loki mourned.

"Calling flerkens cats...that's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?"

"Just because they lay hundreds of eggs at a time and can shoot tentacles out of their mouth doesn't give you the right to discriminate against them, Stephen." 

Loki made a face. "Besides, a majestic creature like that? It's wasted on Fury. Just imagine the things I can keep in its pocket dimensions." 

"You have plenty of your own, Loki."

"What's your favourite animal?" Loki asked curiously.

"That's random," Stephen laughed. "You're gonna have to specify. Do you mean to look at? To keep as a pet? To eat?"

Loki gave a listless shrug, the meaning of which Stephen could only guess at. 

"Butterflies," he obliged.

Loki lifted his head to gaze at his lover in wonder. 

Stephen laughed. "What's with that look? Too ordinary?"

"On the contrary. I admire all forms of life. Apparently, so do you." 

The admiration added a sparkle to Loki's eyes, as well as a spark of sadness. "The magnificent, but short, lifespan of a butterfly symbolises spiritual transformation. It serves to remind us that life is fleeting."

His illusions restored, Loki's spell breathed a Rajah Brooke butterfly to life, the spectacular beauty of its green and black wings second only to Loki's own ensemble of emerald silk and gold lamé. 

"I love you," Stephen blurted. 

"Stop." Loki's face coloured. "We were talking about animals."

"I can do small talk and love you at the same time."

Loki raised his eyebrows. Challenge accepted, his smug expression said.

"Did you know that ravens hold funerals for their dead?"

"I did not know that."

"Now you do."

Stephen chuckled.

Loki frowned. "What?"

"I love it that you're a naturalist."

The frown turned into a smile, familiar and oh so mischievous. "I'm a natural at everything."

"Yes." Teacups were quickly sent into the ether, as were clothes and everything in between, "Yes, you are."

Loki uncrossed his long legs slowly. "Would you like to explore my ice cave?"

Who was Stephen to deny such request? This was a place of reverence after all. "It is a great honour, Your Highness."

"Ooh. The King and I!" Loki gasped in delight as something very warm met his sensitive nether regions. "Give me another one, Stephen."

_"Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> 1\. The Shakespeare lines (with the slightest bit of alteration) are from Macbeth.
> 
> 2\. The lines at the end came from the King and I, the classic film with Yul Brynner. Stephen's 'et cetera, et cetera, et cetera' is a King of Siam's line to Anna, after 'When I sit, you shall sit. When I kneel you shall kneel'!
> 
> 3\. The Sanctum is a place of peace and reverence - is a fantastic line I borrowed from Arabesqueangel, tying in with the latest chapter of our collab fic Love & Fine Dining. (Chapter Name: Taco Bell is NOT Mexican Food. Check it out! It's got our two favourite sorcerers and tons of food porn)
> 
> 4\. Fancy Man is Valkyrie's nickname for Stephen from my original Capsule Collection universe.
> 
> And that is the conclusion to the story, guys. It has been one of the most challenging and exhilarating stories to write in my stint as a fanfic writer. I have so many people to thank, my collaborator, my beta, and all you dear readers out there. Thank you, couldn't have done this without you. 
> 
> Hope you've all enjoyed and hope to see you again next time!
> 
> And oh I almost forgot -
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day! ❤❤❤
> 
> L.


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